Into a darker mirror, I gaze
by Braxin
Summary: The Mirror Universe is a dark place, and this story tells what happened after the televised episode ended.
1. Chapter 1

— **Chapter 01—**

After all of the madness which had occurred in the past ten days since the hunt for this strange ship from the future had begun, it had all come to this.

"What the hell have you done!" yelled Trip directly into Phlox's face, as he struggled with the Denobulan who had just sabotaged the Defiant in the middle of a firefight with the ISS Avenger, an NX class ship which had until quite recently been commanded by Admiral Black, until Archer had killed the Admiral.

Phlox managed to free himself and then lunged for a phaser, but Trip pounced on him, and then Phlox got in a hell of a punch, which dropped Trip to his knees, where he grabbed a metal cylinder, rose quickly to his feet and struck Phlox soundly high up on the Denobulan's back, knocking the Denobulan down and out. The rest was anti-climactic. Trip restored the Defiant's systems, and the ship began firing upon the traitorous Avenger, just as an engineer who'd made his way to their location in order to correct the same problem which had drawn Trip's attention, looked at his commander, then at the Denobulan.

"Sir?" said the engineer, taking in Denobulan stretched out on the deck.

"Stay here, Dillard!" said Trip. "Watch him! Don't reach out to anyone, you understand?"

"Yes, Commander," said Dillard agreeably, for the Defiant's Chief Engineer had a mean temper, and a long memory.

Trip spun on his heels then, and ran through the ship, racing for the Defiant's transporter pad. This system was much like his old ship's transporter system and so it functioned along similar lines, but it offered more control, to go along with the finer mechanisms and more refined transportation process. Trip had studied this process with a great deal of interest, and he'd come to some interesting conclusions, one of which guided his movements now, as Trip hurried to make use of the transporter before Archer destroyed the Avenger.

Trip pulled up the sensor feed, focused on the Bridge of the Avenger, and there it was. The only Vulcan life sign on the Bridge. Trip energized the transporter and Soval was beamed off the Avenger's Bridge and stored in the Defiant's transporter buffer as an energy signature, as Trip did not complete the transportation process, and physically embody the Vulcan on the Defiant. A minute to secure Soval's energy signature by hiding it and then securing it against accidental deletion, and then a few seconds more to lock it down under Tetra-Kanda encryption, the sum of all these acts being to keep Soval safely out of harm's way for now: Archer would not take well to seeing Soval just now, and Trip had his own reasons to be solicitous of the Vulcan's life.

Trip might have performed the same service for T'Pol who'd been transferred to the Avenger earlier, as he still owed that Vulcan payback for all that she'd put him through and a quick death aboard an exploding ship simply did not seem sufficient payment to Trip, but Sato and one of Reed's Security men had already brought her back to the Defiant after Archer had discovered that T'Pol had downloaded the Defiant's schematics, presumably to pass them on to her Vulcan contacts, and this was a serious breach of trust. Perhaps it was just as well that Archer would have T'Pol executed after extracting the location of the disk onto which she'd saved the schematics: the woman had been nothing but a pain in his ass since the first day they'd met.

Afterwards, Trip returned to the same place he'd left Dillard guarding Phlox, and found the man still there, metal pipe in hand, guarding a now conscious Phlox like a hawk, for although Dillard was unsure of what had happened here, he was sure that Phlox had fucked up somehow.

"Ok," said Trip, looking Dillard in the eye, "this dumb ass Denobulan was back here trying to modify the power output to his lab, like he's got any business screwing around with our power junctions. He's going to do some time in the Agony Booth for it, but he doesn't deserve to die, and you know Archer when he's pissed."

Dillard nodded his head in agreement with his boss. The Chief could be a pain in the ass sometimes, but he was also fair, which was more than anyone could say for Archer, or could have said for the recently deceased Captain Forrest. For his part, Phlox just watched Trip closely, unsure of Commander Tucker's intent, but relieved that Captain Archer wouldn't find out about his recent lapse of judgement.

"Yes, Chief," said Dillard.

"Good," said Trip. "Now get out of here, and keep your mouth shut, Dillard."

Dillard nodded and left, and Trip looked at Phlox, knowing that he was about to determine the Denobulan's fate. If he didn't like the doctor's answer, he'd turn Phlox over to Archer for execution, even though he'd always liked Phlox.

"Explain," said Trip.

"Well Commander, T'Pol came to—," said Phlox, and Trip groaned at the sound of her name: he should have known she'd be mixed up in this fiasco.

"Commander?"

"Go on," said Trip.

"Well, T'Pol and Soval came to me, spinning wild tales which alarmed me," said Phlox, "and frankly, they also bribed me shamelessly, I see that now. The result… well, you know the result."

"I do," said Trip. "You were a fool to listen to their pitch, Phlox. This ship brings opportunities for us all, and things can change on a dime. Your job is not to be crushed in the process."

"Yes, Commander," said Phlox, appreciating the man's calming influence, for the Commander had always been congenial with him.

"Good," said Trip. "Now, listen. You've seen me work here the past couple of days, and when the power went out in your Sick Bay, you came here flip a few switches and restore power, and you accidentally caused the short which affected the ship. You were stupid, but you weren't treasonous, you just wanted to prep your Sick Bay for possible casualties."

"As you say, Commander," said Phlox, knowing that Commander Tucker was giving him life.

"Understand one thing, Phlox," said Trip. "I even suspect you'll pull another stunt like this, I'll kill you on the spot. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Commander," said Phlox. "It won't happen again."

"Great. Now, report to the Agony Booth," said Trip. "You need to pay a price for your stupidity, while I talk to Archer. If you're already being tortured, I can keep him from killing you."

"As you command," said Phlox, so relieved by Commander Tucker's reassurances that even his upcoming time in the Agony Booth seemed a minor thing in comparison, and seconds later Trip was alone.

Trip wondered briefly if he should really put his ass on the line for Phlox, but the gist of it was that he owed his life to Phlox a half dozen times or more, and a debt was a debt, but this fiasco wiped the slate clean. Trip walked to a wall mounted communications console and pressed a button.

"Tucker to Security," said Trip.

"Yes, sir."

"Phlox is heading your way," said Trip. "He needs some time in the Agony Booth. Five hours. Light him up."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

As Trip had predicted, things changed suddenly, and they changed just seven hours later with Captain Archer's murder at the hands of Ensign Sato, while the Defiant was on course for Earth. Now, as the Defiant entered the Sol system and made way for Earth at one tenth impulse, Ensign Sato entered the Bridge, flanked by two security officers.

"Open a channel to Fleet Admiral Gardner," said Ensign Sato, looking at the acting Comm officer.

"Channel open," said Comm.

"This is the Starship Defiant," said Ensign Sato. "If you don't surrender immediately, we'll begin targeting your cities. Respond."

"Where's Archer?," said Gardner, both angry, and bewildered. "Who the hell are you?"

"You're speaking with the Empress Sato," said the former Ensign Sato. "Prepare to receive instructions."


	2. Chapter 2

— **Chapter 02—**

The Empress Sato's ascension to the throne took place within hours of demanding Admiral Gardner's capitulation. It had not gone smoothly, but it had gone relatively quickly. Presumably under the Emperor's orders, a dozen ships had made effort to destroy the Defiant, and after an hour's game of cat and mouse around the Earth, Moon, Mars and Mercury, the Defiant stood alone, bloodied, but alone. In order to repay the Emperor's resistance, the Empress leveled the Imperial Palace with a photon torpedo bombardment from orbit, killing the former Emperor and his entire family. Of course, dying or abdicating the throne were the only two acts that were not reversible by his Imperial Majesty, and moments later, Admiral Gardner hailed the Defiant.

"Put him up," said the Empress, glancing at the Comm officer.

Admiral Gardner's face appeared on the large Bridge video display. This time, the admiral's face was contrite, his fear barely controlled.

"Your Imperial Majesty," said Gardner.

"Admiral," said the Empress.

"I apologize for failing to obey your commands earlier, Majesty," said Gardner. "I had orders to—"

"Shut up," said the Empress, and Gardner promptly complied. "You did your duty, Admiral. Show me the same loyalty, and I can overlook your indiscretions this time, as frankly, I'd have done the same. Now, if you should fail me in the future…"

"I will never fail you, Majesty!" said Gardner, relieved to be retaining his rank, and more importantly, his life. "What are your orders?"

"Find a suitable place for me in San Francisco," said the Empress. "Reasonably close to StarFleet's HQ, and see that it is well staffed and protected, then notify my Comm officer of that location's coordinates. Finally, call a meeting of the planetary Senate for tomorrow evening in the Senate Chambers, in Washington D.C.. 1900 hours. See that the meeting is televised. I wish to address the Senate, and the Empire, at the same time."

"Yes, Majesty," said Gardner, and the Empress nodded that the comm officer should sever the connection with Gardner.

The Empress looked about the Bridge, and felt a rush of pleasure stronger than any orgasm. She'd done it! It was all hers! The Terran Empire for now! The entire universe soon enough!

Turning her attention to the comm officer once more, the Empress said, "Call an officers meeting in Conference Room 1. Twenty minutes."

"Yes, Majesty," said Comm.

Turning her attention to the security team member who had accompanied her and Ensign Mayweather earlier, when she'd taken command of the Bridge, the Empress said, "See that T'Pol is taken to the conference room. Restrain her. I wish to make an example of her."

The security officer nodded his acceptance of her majesty's orders, saluted with the formal gesture of tapping his heart with closed fist, then extending that same arm out, and spun on his heels, leaving the Bridge to carry out his orders. The Empress made eye contact with Ensign Mayweather, and each smiled at the other, but if Ensign Mayweather had known what was in his Empress' heart, he might not have smiled so broadly, for he was just a tool, so far as she was concerned.

"Have someone from security toss Archer's body onto a gurney," said the Empress, "and see it wheeled outside the conference room, face showing."

Mayweather nodded, smiling in appreciation of his lover's gesture, and then the Ensign moved for the Comm station, to pass the order along.

* * *

When the Empress walked into the conference room, everyone stood, save T'Pol, but that was understandable as the Vulcan was handcuffed to her chair. Everyone there had heard that the former Ensign Sato had declared herself Empress, and her claim had been accepted, and furthermore, everyone had passed Archer's corpse on the way into the room. There was no doubt over the identity of his killer, but then there were also no tears. Archer had possessed his fair share of talents, but he'd also been an abrasive prick.

"Take your seats," said the Empress, once she had seated herself at the head of the table, Ensign Mayweather standing to her left, phaser rifle resting easily in his hands. Moments later, the Empress continued. "You're no doubt aware of the changes which have taken place in the past few hours. I need to leave the ship now in order to consolidate my rule. I expect you all to do your duty while I'm gone. Things have taken a turn for all of you, which begins with a tripling of your salaries effective immediately. That is only the beginning. There is rank and perhaps titles for some of you in the not too distant future, depending on your loyalty to me, and your service to the Empire. My Empire."

The Empress stood, and gestured that everyone remain seated when it seemed that the assembled officers mistook that for a dismissal, and were about to stand.

"For others," said the Empress, drawing her knife and moving to take a position behind T'Pol, "there remains only the anticipation of a death soon to come, which will be followed by the prompt ejection of your corpse from this ship through a torpedo tube."

The Empress caressed the Vulcan's neck with her blade, and T'Pol winced visibly, but then Vulcan control was nowhere as good as they imagined it to be, though they tried harder than the other species round them for discipline, an effort all too often undone by the overwhelming strength of their passions. The Empress tilted the Vulcan's head downward and T'Pol complied, for she knew what was coming. The Empress would drive her blade into the base of the skull. All in all, it was a relatively painless death, and better than being tortured, then passed round the crew, as T'Pol had expected. Still, the Vulcan's fear was intense, and she trembled noticeably under the hand of the Empress Sato. The Empress raised her blade in preparation for her strike, and then Commander Tucker spoke, and T'Pol felt a sudden relief: Commander Tucker would save her!

"Don't kill her, your Majesty," said Trip.

Ensign Mayweather coiled up at the outrage of a commander giving orders to the Empress, and stepped next to Commander Tucker, rifle aimed squarely at the commander, his threat obvious.

"Shut up!" said Mayweather.

Commander Tucker turned to face Ensign Mayweather, tapped his own forehead, and said, "Put the barrel right here, you dumb fuck. Your men tell me that you couldn't hit the broad side of a barn on your best day."

Ensign Mayweather turned to the Empress, his eyes pleading for permission to blow this arrogant prick's brains out, but the Empress shook her head. Commander Tucker was one of the best engineers in the fleet, and he was the only one that had any real understanding of the Defiant's capabilities at the moment. Hell, he'd saved the ship single handedly, during their encounter with the Avenger, and had been instrumental in keeping all systems functioning during their recent battle with the former Emperor's strike team of a dozen ships. Regretfully, the Empress faced a problem that beset many in command: good, really good, technical people were indispensable, and they could not be easily replaced, and thus they had their own brand of power even above rank at times, and as this ship was the seat of her power, Commander Tucker was indispensable to the Empress. For now.

"Explain yourself, Commander Tucker," said the Empress, her glance cool.

"We've beaten off an attack by a dozen ships, true," said Trip, "but we took serious damage in the process. I need everyone working on the ship right now, to bring us back to combat readiness, and that's on top of me poking around, trying to fully uncover this ship's potential. I do not need to remind your Majesty that if we're attacked again and lose the battle, your Imperial Majesty's right to rule vanishes in an instant."

"We can bring in techs from the planet below!" said Mayweather, itching to kill Commander Tucker.

"Sure, but can you trust them?" said Trip, ignoring Mayweather, and looking squarely at the Empress. "What if StarFleet sneaks a few dozen MACOs onto the Defiant before you can consolidate your rule, and does so under the pretense that they're the techs we've requested. How long do you think it would take them to sabotage this ship and destroy it, or better yet, capture the ship and turn it over to Gardner?"

"We can't trust her!" said Mayweather, glaring at Trip while pointing at T'Pol with the tip of his phaser rifle.

"She's a known quantity," said Trip, "and she can be monitored closely enough to keep her from acting against the Empress' interests."

Regretfully, the Empress realized that Commander Tucker's words were logical, and she sheathed her dagger, while T'Pol looked up at Commander Tucker, face flushed, pupils dilated, fully aware of just how close she'd come to becoming carrion.

"I want someone from Security watching her constantly," said the Empress, looking at Ensign Mayweather. "She steps out of line, kill her."

Ensign Mayweather nodded, and the Empress turned her attention to T'Pol.

"You have your chance, T'Pol," said the Empress. "Do your job cleanly and you get to live. You understand?"

"Yes," said T'Pol.

The Empress resumed her seat, and said, "Since you're in a talkative mood, Commander Tucker, give us a status report on the ship's condition."

Trip did as ordered for the next fifteen minutes.

"How long to make all those repairs?" said the Empress.

"Six weeks," said Trip, "and that's working double shifts."

"You'll get the job done in three weeks," said the Empress, "or the entire engineering crew will begin spending one hour daily in the Agony Booth, in order to motivate you and your crew to better serve the Empire."

Trip just nodded at that, but he'd already pushed his luck over T'Pol, so he kept his mouth shut. In any case, he'd padded his initial estimate by two weeks, anticipating that Sato would demand more from his crew, and he'd been right. His crew could make the repairs in three weeks.

They went round the room after that, each department head giving the status of their department, Mayweather standing in for Reed, who was still in Sick Bay, after his disastrous encounter with the Gorn.

"That's it then," said the Empress. "Once I'm on the planet, I'll review StarFleet's records, and make certain that the people I send up here to reinforce this crew are who they say they are, StarFleet all the way, and with verifiable history. Now, as the last item of the day, Ensign Mayweather is promoted to the rank of commander, and acting captain while I'm off the ship. Everyone but Commander Mayweather is dismissed."

The room cleared, after a brief delay in order that T'Pol's handcuffs might be removed, and the newly frocked Commander Mayweather signaled that one of his people should follow T'Pol. As soon as she had privacy, the Empress kissed Commander Mayweather for a time, but eventually, the business at hand had to intrude on their time.

"You keep order aboard this ship while I'm gone, Commander," said the Empress. "This is just he beginning for us both, so don't screw things up by letting your guard down. And don't tangle with Tucker without good reason. I need him for now. If the time comes that he's no longer useful to me, he's all yours."

"I look forward to that day, Empress!" said Commander Mayweather, still elated over his promotion, and his love for the Empress: one day soon she'd wed him, and they could rule the Empire together…

* * *

Ten minutes after the meeting Trip led T'Pol and her baby sitter to the original captain's Ready Room.

"Wait outside, Villars," said Trip, as the door slid open

"Respectfully, sir," said Villars, "I'm ordered to watch her closely."

"And you can do so," said Trip, locking eyes with Villars, "after I leave. You really wanna get on my bad side, Villars?"

Villars, hard ass though he was, looked visibly uneasy. Commander Tucker was old school, and he'd been in involved in an untold number of fights of one sort or another, and hundreds of shipboard battles in service to the Empire, so he was no joke. Even more, Villars remembered what happened to the former head of Security, Commander Menez. A month ago he'd struck Commander Tucker with the back of his hand in front of the entire Bridge crew over some disagreement or other, and Commander Tucker had just smiled coldly at the man, then walked away. Three days later, three days mind you, not weeks, Menez's phaser overloaded and exploded, sending Menez to hell in a burst of hot plasma which scorched the turbo-lift tube in the process, scorched it so badly that it had to be replaced. Menez's death, which occurred before Medical could save him, was excruciatingly painful. No accusations were made, but the entire ship knew, Commander Tucker had sent a message.

No one could prove anything, of course, but it was telling that none of the phaser's three safety features functioned correctly in order to prevent this 'accident', or notify Menez of its malfunction. Forrest just laughed when told of the incident, but then he'd hated Menez, and liked Tucker, so he filed the incident as an accidental death, rather than investigating the matter in depth, which would likely have been a waste of time anyway. Engineers were notoriously meticulous, and Menez was a fool. No one made the rank of commander without being able to defend himself against the ambitions of his subordinates, or respond to the aggressions of his equals. Plus, as Forrest saw things, Menez's death had put Tucker and Reed at each other's throat, and prevented them from working together against him, so that was all for the better.

"No, sir," said Villars, taking station outside the Ready Room.

"Get in there," said Trip, rudely shoving T'Pol into the Ready Room, and then taking a seat at the captain's desk and shortly afterwards activating the man's computer terminal, while T'Pol looked over his shoulder.

"I thank for you assistance in the conference room, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol.

"Forget about it," said Trip. "I'm just short handed, or I'd have taken pleasure in watching Sato stick you like a pig after that little number you and Soval did on Phlox. Now pay attention."

"Yes, Commander," said T'Pol.

"You know we've had access to the Defiant's computer core from day one," said Trip, "and we all assumed the entirety of that data is accessible from every terminal."

T'Pol said nothing, though she made eye contact with Commander Tucker, and arched a brow at the Human.

"But the captain's terminal seems to be able to access a private and secured partition of the memory core," said Trip. "I need you to bypass the password protection scheme, so get it done quickly."

"That is it?' said T'Pol, surprised at the request.

Even with the most advanced methods of securing computers, it was still relatively easy for a savvy tech to crack almost any program in the world. This was due to computer processes' ability to be completely manipulated by an assembly debugger. Using a debugger, one would completely bypass the registration process by making it skip the application's key code verification process without requiring a valid key. This worked because assembly language allowed one to address the computer processor directly, and granted one the control to bypass the programs security subroutines.

"You could have done this in short order yourself, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol, "even though this is technically outside your area of expertise. I have seen you do so at least twice."

"True," said Trip, "but I've been busting my ass working all over the ship, and I'm short on time. Plus, accessing this secured partition requires the use of a dongle."

Ah, thought T'Pol. The dongle was a piece of hardware used in higher end systems which plugged into one of the computer's ports, and provided an additional layer of security, for without the dongle in place, bypassing the password protection was not enough to access the desired data, as the dongle addressed the security shortcomings of the password protection scheme. One needed both password and dongle to access the data in short order. Barring that, it would take forensic techniques to access this hidden data, and a great deal of time.

"Did you find the dongle?" said T'Pol.

"I did," said Trip, "though one of Reed's men stepped on it and deformed the cartridge casing. I'm going to straighten the casing, then get a quick bite to eat, before I come back here to deal with this issue."

"Very well," said T'Pol, and Trip left the room.

"Watch her like a hawk," said Trip, to Villar's, still on guard outside the door. "As soon as she bypasses the password protection take her candy ass to Engineering. There's lots for her to do, and little time to waste."

"Yes, sir," said Villars.


	3. Chapter 3

— **Chapter 03—**

As soon as the Empress left the Defiant, Commander Mayweather wasted no time making it clear that he was acting captain, though he avoided Commander Tucker, in obedience to the Empress' command, and that worked out just fine for Trip. After fiddling with the dongle's metal casing in order to bring it back to form, he made his way to the Mess Hall and took his usual corner table, next to one of the large glass portholes. After wolfing down a smoked turkey, bacon and avocado sandwich on a toasted sourdough baguette, Trip made his way to the captain's Ready Room, and found T'Pol still there, Villars making a proper show of watching the Vulcan.

"I thought you'd be done and gone by now," said Trip, looking at the Vulcan. "You can leave. I'll finish up here."

"No need," said T'Pol, watching the man closely. "As a matter of fact, I just finished my task, Commander Tucker. I was just contemplating leaving you a note."

"Get up," said Trip, and motioned that T'Pol should clear the the captain's chair.

The Vulcan stood and moved aside, though not as far as she might have, and Commander Tucker brushed against the Vulcan as he took the captain's seat. Her touch annoyed Trip. T'Pol believed that she had some degree of power over him due to his sexual attraction for her, but rather than granting power, her closeness was an irritant: he had enjoyed bedding her during her first pon'farr, but she'd done plenty since then to ruin the good will built on his part during that pleasurable encounter.

"What do you expect to find in the captain's private partition?" said T'Pol.

"I expect to find the original captain's logs, maybe some personnel evaluations, and some personal files," said Trip. "In short, I don't expect much, but I couldn't just ignore this partition, once I came across it."

T'Pol nodded. Commander Tucker's assumption was logical. She was about to make a suggestion that they review the contents of the partition together in order to lessen the tedium of filtering those files for anything of interest, but Commander Tucker looked at T'Pol, and spoke first.

"Head for Engineering and give Dillard a hand with the diagnostic runs on the phase inverters," said Trip. "He's good with numbers, but you're better."

"Very well," said T'Pol, regretfully: since Commander Tucker had spared her a death at the hands of the Empress, T'Pol realized that her life hung by a thread, Commander Tucker her only ally, and T'Pol wished to remain here in order to shore up their relationship, for her own benefit of course.

Still, she turned on her heels to leave the room, followed by Villars, and as Trip watched the Vulcan's sweet ass sashaying out the door, he almost growled with frustration. Despite his anger at the Vulcan for psionically influencing him not long past and subjecting him to Archer's tortures in the Agony Booth as a result of that manipulation, Trip would be lying if he said he wasn't still strongly drawn to her. Too bad she was a manipulative bitch.

Trip plugged the dongle in the workstation's forward input port, and rebooted the workstation. This time, the dongle worked seamlessly with T'Pol's handiwork which bypassed the password protections on the captain's private data, and Trip glanced at the information displayed in the partition's directory tree.

"What the hell…" said Trip.

He leaned forward in order to get a better view the contents of the partition: sure enough, the things he'd suspected to find were indeed there, but there was tons of other data, and Trip spent the next ten minutes getting an overview of this data by studying the directory tree, then the individual directories and their subdirectories. That done, Trip acted swiftly, as he couldn't take the chance that the acting captain whom the Empress had left in charge might come to 'his' Ready Room. Trip ignored the original captain's logs, personnel files and also the man's personal files, then compressed the rest of the directories and files into a zip file, encrypted it three times, and transferred that file to his own data locker, which he'd secured against both official and unofficial intrusion. Trip's last act was to kick off a security subroutine which would wipe the empty space inside the captain's private partition some two hundred times in the span of ten minutes, leaving behind only the captain's more innocuous files. That done, Trip left the captain's Ready Room, and headed for Sick Bay, where he was met by Phlox, smiling genially as usual.

"Ah," said Phlox, "Commander Tucker. What can I do for you today?"

Trip touched the overgrowth of flesh and skin which partially covered his right eye and occluded his vision, and which was a result of the genetic damage caused by the Enterprise's warp engines. That same genetic damage had also caused some nasty looking scarring on the entire right side of his face and forehead, but there was nothing to be done for that, as new skin transplanted there died within weeks, lacking the proper network of arteries and veins among that scar tissue necessary to bring nutrients to the transplanted skin.

"I need this growth removed," said Trip. "It's hampering my vision."

"Certainly, Commander," said Phlox, and indicated that Trip should take a seat on one of the beds installed along the Sick Bay's North End wall.

Moments later, Phlox stood in front of Trip, and after administering a topical anesthetic, the Denobulan quickly and professionally removed the fleshy overgrowth occluding Commander Tucker's vision, and sealed the cuts in short order.

"We are done, Commander Tucker," said Phlox.

"Thanks."

"You are quite welcome," said Phlox. "Would you like to join me for lunch, Commander Tucker?"

"I just ate, Doctor, or I'd take you up on your offer. Another time," said Trip. "Thanks for the trim."

"You are quite welcome, Commander Tucker," said Phlox, nodding agreeably.

"As long as I'm here," said Trip, "we should speak about an opportunity for your professional advancement to the highest levels of medicine, via my good graces."

"Oh?" said Phlox, for the Denobulan was always hungry for medical knowledge, and the professional recognition and esteem of his peers. "What kind of opportunity?"

"I discovered a treasure trove of medical knowledge in this ship's memory core," said Trip. "Even to my eyes, this information is more than enough to make you the leading medical figure for the next few hundred years in all of known space, as well as an obscenely wealthy man."

"Ah," said Phlox, a bit crestfallen now, sure that he he'd already missed his chance at wealth or greatness. "I'm aware of this medical treasure trove of which you're speaking, Commander Tucker, but I'm afraid that given all the excitement, I've had no chance to review any of this medical data, and the Empress sealed off all technical and medical data from us all when she left the ship. I believe she means to dispense this data at her whim, as a measure of the benefits of her rule, so I fear that others will get their hands on it long before me, and I will have no chance to claim any of this research as my own."

"No," said Trip. "You don't understand, Phlox. I found a second stash of medical data, restricted to the captain's eyes only. These ships from the future came across many civilizations, many more advanced than their own, as well as the remnants of other still greater civilizations, far more advanced than their own, and the medical data I'm speaking of is very likely leaps and bounds beyond the data which the Empress has secured. The Empress is not aware of my discovery, Doctor. Only you and I."

"Why would they secure such valuable data for the captain's eyes only?" said Phlox, puzzled, though his eyes glittered with excitement now. "It doesn't make sense. He would lack the education and training to make use of it properly."

"It's possible that truly advanced knowledge is sealed off," said Trip, "and turned over to HQ, for in depth study."

"I see. That is indeed possible. Now, if I might take a look at that information—" said Phlox, but Trip raised his hand, cutting the Denobulan off, despite the doctor's eagerness.

"I want you to understand something, Doctor," said Trip. "I have no use for this information, so far as professional advancement goes. I'm an engineer, and no one would believe I originated any of this data, so I have it earmarked for you, and you alone."

"I appreciate that, Commander Tucker," said Phlox, impatiently willing for the man to make his point, and hand over this data trove.

"But there is something I want from you, Doctor," said Trip. "I will begin giving you access to this data, Doctor, and you will scour that medical data in search of any treatments which hold even a remote promise that they can reverse the genetic damage which afflicts my engineers and I, and you will experiment with those treatments until you can reverse the damage we've suffered."

"I can't promise anything until I see that data, Commander," said Phlox, "but I will do my best, rest assured of that."

"If you rise to my challenge, Doctor," said Trip, "we will expand this experiment in order to benefit us all, and in time I will release the entirety of this medical data to you. You will make a name for yourself which will be second to none, and the two of us will share the profits, which will be vast, even when split down the middle."

"Oh, that will be wonderful, Commander," said Phlox, already anticipating wealth, and fame. "You may rest assured that I will place your needs above all others."

"All right," Trip nodded and said. "You'll get the first of this material tomorrow."

* * *

The Empress Sato looked out the porthole as the Defiant's shuttle entered Earth's atmosphere and headed for a landing in San Francisco, where StarFleet's HQ was located, for the Empress wanted to get a good grip on the military forces of the Terran Empire. The view as the shuttle drew closer and closer to the city was magnificent, but the Empress found it so for the knowledge that this was all hers now, the city, the planet, the very Empire itself.

Minutes later the shuttle landed on the blocked off street in front of the Fairmont, one of the city's premier luxury hotel, which had been briskly emptied of guests, and was now filled with her Imperial Majesty's staff and guards. The Empress exited the shuttle, which lifted off in order to return to the Defiant, and the Empress made her way towards the hotel's entrance accompanied by a dozen heavily armed guards which had rushed for her shuttle as soon as it landed, only to fall round the Empress in a protective cordon. Once the Empress reached the front entrance, she found three admirals, Gardner among them.

"Your Imperial Majesty," said Gardner, after stepping forward and saluting the Empress.

The Empress nodded coldly to Gardner, then said, "Follow me to my suite."

The Imperial party moved through the hotel led by the hotel's manager, and though the former Ensign Sato would have been impressed by the hotel's beauty, the Empress barely took notice of it all. She had other things with which to occupy her mind now. They rode the elevator silently, and once they'd made the Empress' suite, the admirals were seated, and served drinks, after which the Empress spoke.

"The first priority of my rule will be maintaining the borders of our empire, and then expanding the Terran Empire," said the Empress, and the admirals nodded their approval. "Accordingly, I will begin to release the technical data of this ship from the future, beginning with engine and shield technology, and after that weapons upgrades, retaining for myself just three super-weapons which will secure my reign."

The admirals nodded their approval, for with these technical advances the Terran Empire could easily expand to include the entire known galaxy and its dozens of major, and hundreds of minor known species. They were also privately concerned over the nature of these super-weapons, but that was a matter for another day.

"I will spend the night here," said the Empress, "then tomorrow I'm off to Florence, Italy. I mean to address the planetary Senate, after which I have appointments in London, and then Madrid. You, Admiral Gardner, will return here two days from now, with a top flight engineer who is familiar with our ship building process, and our factories. We will begin by discussing the process of improving our engines, guided by the technical data I've gathered from the Defiant, and we'll do so in order to improve the speed of our upcoming models, as well as give us the ability to add stronger shields and weapons to our fleet, as soon as possible. Bring someone who can discuss time tables and budgets. Afterwards, we will discuss the current status of our fleet, and the challenges this rebellion which has gained a foothold among the Vulcans and the Andorians poses to the Empire."

"Yes, Majesty," said Gardner.

"You are all dismissed," said the Empress, and a few minutes later, the Empress found herself alone in her suite, and she laughed aloud.

* * *

**I'm never one to turn down a great idea coming from an outside source, and the idea of the captain's private memory core partition will play a pivotal role in this story, and it came from fellow fanfiction member Rishooter, but I didn't want to mention this twist until this secret data partition came into play. Rishooter's insight posited that these far reaching exploratory ships traveled far and wide, much like the Enterprise captained by Kirk, and in the process, came across a vast amount of alien knowledge and tech hardware which they collected, some of which was far in advance of contemporary Human knowledge and hardware. In any case, I found Rishooter's idea to be a great story device, and his input is appreciated. Ris - RESPECT!


	4. Chapter 4

— **Chapter 04—**

Trip woke early the morning following the Empress' departure from the Defiant, and dropped by Engineering to get an overview of the department's status, then waved Dillard over to him.

"Morning, Chief," said Dillard.

"Hey. Listen, I need to scour through a ton of technical data today," said Trip, momentarily distracted by a nasty bleeding sore that began above Dillard's left eyebrow and ran upward into his hairline: the Defiant's engines ran clean, but the radiation they'd been exposed to on the Enterprise was affecting the entire Engineering crew still, and would kill them all in time, unless Phlox was able to turn the tide. "You take the lead here, and pass your shift on to Evers without any problems, you hear?"

"Yes, Chief," said Dillard. "No problem."

"Good man," said Trip, then headed for his quarters.

Once there, Trip activated his workstation and accessed his data locker, unzipped the file he'd transferred here from the captain's partition, and said "Computer."

The computer responded with a chime, which told Trip that the computer was on standby and awaiting his input. The computer interface at work on this ship was more advanced than the Enterprise's. It was still not true AI, but it was quite sophisticated, and it performed just as well at many tasks, save those that required creativity. Thus it was natural that Trip should make use of this computer interface in order to aid him in selecting the proper files which might best aid Phlox in search of a cure for the radiation caused mutation which affected the entire Engineering crew.

"Display the data structure of the file I've just unzipped," said Trip.

The computer chimed, and displayed a directory tree of the unzipped file, as well as a succinct report — '17 directories, 287 subdirectories, 293,141 entries'.

Trip scanned the various directories, then said, "Evaluate the contents of the MEDICAL directory, and all of it's subdirectories. Collate any and all data which would aid medical personnel in devising a course of treatment for long term exposure and mutation due to radiation."

The computer chimed in response, then an instant later a line of text scrolled across Trip's video monitor — '8,409 entries related to your request, prioritized by the quality of the data within.'

Trip thought, and realized that Phlox would never be able to assimilate all that data in short order.

"Transfer the top five percent of these entries to Sick Bay," said Trip, "secured by Doctor Phlox's voice print."

The computer chimed in response, then chimed once again a second later to confirm that it had complete its assigned task.

Trip pressed the comm button on his desk, and said, "Tucker to Sick Bay."

"Yes, Commander Tucker," said Phlox.

"A portion of the medical data we've discussed earlier is now accessible to you," said Trip. "This represents the top five percent of entries dealing with our particular problem. If you feel the need for more, just ask."

"Yes, Commander," said Phlox, excited now. "In full accord with medical ethics and procedures I have taken the liberty of exposing the still unconscious Lt. Reed to the identical band of radiation to which you and your engineering crew have been exposed for years, and I have exposed him to a much higher dose. If this new material of yours provides me with a workable therapy for you all, Lt. Reed will be our guinea pig and aid us in our goal."

"Well," said Trip, "at least that pompous British ass will serve a worthy purpose for once. I want to see results, Doctor, you understand?"

"Yes, Commander," said Phlox, and severed their connection.

Trip turned his attention back to his video monitor, and said, "Computer. Display the contents of the STARSHIPS directory."

The computer complied and displayed the following subdirectories: ARMOR, CONSTRUCTION, MISCELLANEOUS, MATERIALS, SHIELDS, PROPULSION and WEAPONS. Trip spent the next five hours skimming through the contents of these directories and realized the contents of the STARSHIPS directory alone could keep him busy for years, so Trip put this information aside for now.

He spent two hours skimming the data found in the SPECIES directory, and found the correlations and discrepancies of the Humans, Vulcans and Andorians of this future, alternate timeline, to be quite interesting, and Trip wondered for the first time, if he might have lived a happier life in that timeline. Not that there was any way for him to access that timeline, so far as he could tell.

In any case, thought Trip, this is my universe, and it's here that I'll make my stand.

He turned his attention next to a directory named: HOLDING LOCKER. Inside this directory he found a simple text file which seemed to be an inventory of alien devices and artifacts procured by this ship in the course of its travels. Trip noted the deck and section number of the Holding Locker at the top of that text file, along with the Holding Locker's ID number. Trip stood and made his way to the location of this Holding Locker, where he found that the name was misleading for the locker was presumably a full sized room, as a full sized metal door barred access to the locker. The door was coded for verbal and eye scan access coded to the former captain, and Trip saw no reason to waste any more time on this task than necessary. He went back to Engineering, picked up an assortment of items, placed them all in a large push cart, and headed back to the Holding Locker. Once there, he contacted the Bridge.

"Tucker to Bridge."

"Yes," said Commander Mayweather, from the Captain's Chair.

"Disable safety protocols for Section 37, Deck G, and mark that section a NO-GO zone for the entire crew. Seal off the air ducts."

"What's going on down there?" said Mayweather.

"I need to cut through some steel beams down here, in order to repair some of the damage we took while battling the former emperor's ships, so the sensors will register and report smoke and heat," said Trip, "and there's also a chemical spill to deal with, due to some ruptured conduit pipes. It's minor enough, but this environment is toxic, until it's cleaned up."

"That doesn't sound minor," said Commander Mayweather.

"Trust me," said Trip. "If I can't clean up this mess, I'll seal off the section until we can get a cleanup crew from the surface to take care of the matter. Nothing here but some personal lockers, and we've got bigger problems than worrying about a small section which contains nothing but a shitload of teddy bears, dildoes, photo albums and clothes that no longer fit."

"Understood," said Commander Mayweather, and nodded his approval to the Tactical officer who was taking Lt. Reed's place until the man made a recovery and was fit to return to duty. "Safety protocols are disabled on Section 37, Deck G, and that section is now marked a NO-GO zone for the crew."

"Much obliged, Commander," said Trip, and severed their connection.

In anticipation of the smoke which he'd soon generate, Trip donned a gas mask, and drew out and activated the boxy air scrubber which he'd brought with him from Engineering in the push cart. A minute later he began cutting through the room's lock with a plasma cutter, and ten minutes later he was in. Another ten minutes for the air scrubber to completely remove the pollutants from the air, and then Trip removed his gas mask and entered the Holding Locker, which was a generously sized room, some 20x30 feet in dimensions. Wide metal shelves lined the walls round the room, and on these shelves were arrayed the numerous items inventoried in the manifest list he'd come across, save for three large items resting directly on the floor, and which drew Trip's attention. The first item was a large pyramid, some five feet tall, and seemingly made of transparent jade, and covered in golden hieroglyphics, the second a glossy black metal ball with a flattened base so that it might rest securely, and the third a seven foot metal pole, some fourteen inches wide, whose surface was visibly criss crossed with seams, as if it was made to expand.

The shelves held fifty-four items, according to the manifest list, and some were tagged with names, and known or suspected functions, while others had no tag at all, and Trip spent then next two hours handling each item, trying to determine their origin, and hypothesize their function. Eventually, he selected a single item to take back to his quarters for further study, and he selected that item because it had the most conventional appearance, some type of mechanical apparatus contained inside a metal briefcase.

The briefcase was etched with some alien script, so Trip made a quick but accurate freehand sketch of the writing, and pocketed the paper, and then he tossed the case into his push cart. He then removed and replaced the burned out lock with a new lock, after which he affixed a notice to Section 37's door that the area was hazardous, and forbidden to the crew, on his authority. After returning the push cart and his tools to Engineering, Trip headed back for his quarters, where he dropped off the metal case, nestling it among the other dozen some pieces of tech which littered his quarters, then Headed for the Mess Hall, a bottle of port from his private stash in hand.

Once Trip arrived in the Mess Hall, he rang for Chef.

"Ah, Commander," said Chef, a pleasant smile on the fat man's face. "What can I do for you?"

"I need a favor," said Trip, handing the bottle of port over to Chef: technically, Chef was bound to honor officer requests without a bribe, but the man recognized a fellow foodie in Trip and often went above and beyond the call of duty for the Commander, and Trip liked to balance the scales occasionally.

"Oh, this is nice, Commander Tucker," said Chef. "Thank you. Now, ask and you shall receive."

"Great, I'm starving," said Trip. "Soft-shelled crabs, grilled red snapper, a dozen fried oysters, sweet potato fries and some coleslaw."

"Done," said Chef. "Give me twenty minutes."

Trip nodded his thanks, then grabbed an iced coffee and took his accustomed seat at a corner table, next to a large porthole. T'Pol found him there fifteen minutes later, when she made her way to the Mess Hall, and after a moment's pause, for she was unsure where she stood with the man after her complicity in the earlier sabotage attempt, T'Pol approached the commander's table.

"May I join you, Commander Tucker?" said T'Pol, meal tray in hand, looking inquisitively at the Human officer.

"If you feel you must," said Trip.

"I do," said T'Pol: she sat, then looked at Trip, brow raised.

"Fine," said Trip, eyeing the Vulcan's seared elk steak and fries with appreciation. "What's on your mind? You must have a reason for bugging me, T'Pol."

"Why do you assume that, Commander Tucker?" said T'Pol, flicking her long hair aside, then subtly batting her lashes at Trip.

"Don't do that, T'Pol," said Trip. "Don't take me for a fool."

"Whatever do you mean, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol, and had Trip had not been so well acquainted with T'Pol's calculating nature, he'd have taken her innocence as genuine.

"You know what I mean, T'Pol," said Trip. "You're trying to manipulate me, and I've had enough of it, and I've had enough of you. So keep this up, and you'll spend a few hours in the Agony Booth for starters. Now, what do you want?"

Chastened, T'Pol cut into her steak, and said, "It just occurred to me that my life depends on you, Commander Tucker, and I saw no harm in firming up our relationship."

"Umm, hmm," said Trip, looking at the Vulcan skeptically.

"No, it is true, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol after taking a bite of her medium-rare steak and nodding appreciatively. "That was my only purpose in approaching you tonight. Nothing more."

Their conversation was interrupted for a few minutes as Chef brought out Trip's meal. A fluffy bed of Basmati rice steamed to perfection, atop which perched two crispy deep-fried softshelled crabs coated in Chef's signature crispy tempura batter. Next to the fried crabs, a grilled red snapper fillet coated in a Thai lemongrass based spice blend and drizzled with melter butter, and next to the red snapper a small bowl of sweet and vinegary Asian slaw, and next to the plate, a basket of sweet potato fries, which cradled a dozen large deep fried oysters dredged in cornmeal, and all cooked to perfection. Lastly, a small plate with five ramekins overflowing with dipping sauces.

"Oh," said Trip with a sensual groan, "you've outdone yourself, Chef. Thank you!"

"Think nothing of it, Commander," said Chef, and after seeing that the commander was satisfied, the man took his leave.

Trip bit into one of the hot and crispy crabs, then chased the crab with a large fried oyster dipped in tartar sauce, Chef's cornmeal crust forming a crispy shell for the tasty shellfish, and then he chased the oyster with some rice, then some fish, T'Pol forgotten for the moment.

"So," said Trip, finally turning his attention back to T'Pol. "You want to firm up our relationship? How about you start telling me the truth, T'Pol, instead of trying to manipulate me?"

"I can do that, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol, spearing a fried oyster from Trip's basket with her steak knife. "Just give me a chance to prove myself."

"We'll see," said Trip, not buying what T'Pol was selling.

They ate in silence for few minutes and T'Pol helped herself to three more fried oysters from Trip's basket in that time, then Trip remembered a task he'd earmarked for T'Pol, and after reaching into a pocket, he drew out the piece of paper onto which he'd scribbled the strange hieroglyphs he's seen on the metal briefcase. He handed the paper to T'Pol, and the Vulcan looked at it curiously.

"What is this?" said T'Pol.

"You tell me," said Trip. "I found it in the captain's Ready Room. The Empress was our linguist, and now she's gone. You're the next best thing. What can you tell me?"

"Nothing, for certain," said T'Pol, "though at first glance I see some similarity to Suliban script. It may be nothing, but at least it provides me with a starting place, if you truly mean for me to pursue this lead."

"I do," said Trip. "Get on it after you're done here, and get back to me as soon as possible, no matter the hour."

T'Pol nodded, and she polished off her steak and fries before the commander spoke again.

"How are things in Engineering?" said Trip.

"Well, let me tell you," said T'Pol, and brought Trip up to speed over the course of their meal.

* * *

Later that evening, Trip made his way to his quarters, and pulled out the metal briefcase from among the dozen other pieces of tech he'd scattered about his desk, and took it to his bunk. His fingers caressed the odd script once more, then opened the case, to view a seemingly simple device. A small video display screen, some six inches by eight, two silver dials below it, a flip switch some four inches to the right of the dials. Above that flip switch, and to the right of the video screen, three yellow flip switches in a vertical line, another two switches to the right of the yellow switches, one red, one black, and above them all, an upside down large teardrop shape carved from some type of clear crystal, and beneath the crystal tear, a green light, blinking slowly.

A few seconds of experimentation, and the device turned on, when Trip flipped the lone switch to the right of the silver dials. The video display showed a view of the Defiant, as if from a hundred kilometers above the ship, and Trip laughed with joy at this mechanical toy. Some type of portable sensor system. A bit more experimentation, and Trip discovered that by rotating the silver dials, he could zoom in and out, and change the viewing angle. The surprise came when he zoomed in closely enough to find the video displaying the inside of the Defiant quite clearly.

Oh, this was a wonder. With this device, no secret was safe from him, within it's range of a hundred kilometers… and if he linked this device to the ship's sensors, he could cover an entire solar system, perhaps. The possibilities were endless. Trip spent the next half hour flitting about the Defiant, listening in on conversations, checking the status of Engineering, getting a bird's eye view of the Defiant from all angles in order to determine the extent of damage recently suffered in their combat with the former Emperor's ships, then back to the crew.

The video monitor displayed something of a bokeh effect, where the chosen target of the device was clearly delineated, while the rest was slightly blurred, but Trip found that by flipping one of the switches and twisting the left silver dial he could expand or contract this target area: useful for listening to select conversations in a crowd, no doubt. It was while Trip was fiddling with these settings and flitting about the Defiant, that Trip came to find one of his engineers, Dillard, holding a conversation with one of Reed's security men in a Jeffrey's tube. This was an unexpected sight, as department members did not generally mix with members from other departments, and certainly not in such a secretive location, so Trip zoomed in on them quickly, and adjusted the bokeh effect to cover both men, in order to make certain that he heard everything. What he heard displeased him.

"…so you can understand that Commander Mayweather has no desire to openly defy the Empress' orders," said Tobbins, the Security man. "Now, if an 'accident' happened to Commander Tucker, well, that would be just fate, and Commander Mayweather's hands would be clean."

"And I'd be appointed the new Chief Engineer?" asked Dillard. "Guaranteed?"

"Absolutely," said Tobbins. "You're next in line anyway, Dillard. No one would suspect a thing."

Trip was most displeased by Dillard's part in this. He took good care of his people, and thus, while other officers had to contend with a half dozen attempts on their lives during the course of a year, Trip had not had to deal with an assassination attempt for two years now. Well, Dillard would have to be dealt with. The blinking green light drew Trip's attention now, and he pressed the button, imagining it to be a record button, so that he might record Dillard's plan to remove his commanding officer. The result was startling, to say the least. Both Tobbins and Dillard, shimmered for a few seconds as they looked in horror at the other, then simply vanished from existence. Trip was stunned.

Just then, the cabin's chime announced a visitor. Trip closed the metal case, still reeling from the implications of this device, and slid the case under his desk. On opening the door he found T'Pol, and looked at the Vulcan with raised brow, in imitation of her habitual mannerism.

"What…"

"I have the information you were seeking, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol. "I believe I have translated the note you gave me earlier."

"Don't make me pull teeth here, T'Pol," said Trip. "What does it say?"

"May I come in?" said T'Pol. "We should discuss the matter in private."

Trip stepped aside, and T'Pol breezed past him, flipping her long hair in passing, allowing Trip to scent the Vulcan's citrus based shampoo. Trip closed the door, and entered his cabin to find T'Pol sitting on his bed, her body held provocatively as she faced him.

"So?" said Trip.

"The note you gave me seems to be written in a variation of Suliban," said T'Pol. "There were notable differences, but since this ship was from the future, and a separate timeline at that, the same is true of the note, so some deviation is understandable. I went back and forth from present day Suliban, to the note, to derive the root meaning of each symbol and I believe I have your answer."

"Which is?" said Trip.

"The note translates to two words, Commander," said T'Pol. "Tantalus Field."

"Doesn't mean anything to me," said Trip. "You?"

"No," said T'Pol.

Trip thought for a moment. The Suliban were dabbling with the manipulation of time even now, if rumors were true, with the aid of a mysterious figure from the future. If anyone could get access to technology from further up or down the time stream it was the Suliban.

"Ok, thanks," said Trip. "You really needed to come in here to give me a two word translation that means nothing to either of us?"

T'Pol stood and drew close to Trip, then placed her arms around his neck, kissed Trip deeply, then said, "I have no friends aboard this ship, Commander Tucker. Won't you be my friend?"

Trip sighed inwardly. T'Pol could be so predictable at times. At one time he'd have gladly given his all for genuine desire from T'Pol, but this was more of her bullshit. She thought to manipulate him once more.

"Sure, T'Pol, I'll be your friend," said Trip, as he worked to free T'Pol from her already skimpy uniform, then worked to free himself from his uniform, T'Pol lending a hand here and there.

He took her roughly then for the next few hours, very roughly, prioritizing his pleasure over hers and making it clear to the Vulcan that he was done being her puppet, and once he'd finished with T'Pol, he sent her back to Engineering to continue her assigned work: in truth, although he'd have liked to sport with T'Pol some more, he needed to give his attention to this Tantalus Field, and consider its proper application.

* * *

The next morning, Trip entered Engineering after first setting a number of sensors about Section 37, Deck G, which would notify him if anyone tried to enter that section, or the Holding Locker. He was quickly approached by a half dozen of his engineers, while others looked down at Trip from the upper level of the Engine Room.

"What's up?" said Trip, looking round his men.

"Someone's making a move on us, Chief," said Sanders. "Dillard's missing."

"Don't worry about it," said Trip. "Dillard thought he was ready to be me. He was mistaken."

The looks of concern worn by his men were replaced by looks of sudden comprehension. Dillard had taken his shot, and fumbled it: no harm done.


	5. Chapter 5

— **Chapter 05—**

The computer sounded a chime, announcing a visitor to the acting captain's Ready Room.

"Come in," said Commander Mayweather.

Tok Lee, one of Commander Mayweather's trusted lieutenants, well so much as anyone aboard this ship could be trusted, entered the room and saluted Commander Mayweather. In turn, Commander Mayweather just looked at Lee inquisitively, and the man recognized the look, given their close association.

"No sign of Tobbins, Commander," said Lee, speaking of the man who'd been dispatched by Commander Mayweather to reach agreement with Dillard, an agreement which would see Tucker dead and Dillard elevated to Chief Engineer and Commander. "It's like he vanished off the ship. We searched for hours."

"Think he might have gone AWOL?" said Mayweather.

"Possible, I suppose, but unlikely," said Lee, "and the only shuttle which left the Defiant last night went with the Empress and he was not on it, and records indicate that no one used the transporter last night, and that no one activated the torpedo tubes, so no one dumped his body off the ship that way. Dillard's vanished too, by the way."

"This is Tucker's doing," said Mayweather.

"As you say, Commander," said Lee. "But if you're right about that, I'm concerned. It means that Tucker knows your every move."

"A traitor?" said Mayweather.

"With him? Who knows. He might have just bugged the entire ship," said Lee, looking purposefully around the room to make his point.

"Not this room," said Mayweather. "I swept it this morning. In any case, I'm transporting to Earth this evening in order to attend the Empress' coronation, and I will convince her to declare Tucker a traitor, and order his immediate execution."

Lee nodded his agreement with the commander's plan.

"Tell no one that I'm gone, Tok," said Commander Mayweather. "I might be visible in the newswire feeds, but at that point it will be too late for anyone to plan anything on a whim. You're in charge until I return, and I'll instruct Security to follow your orders to the letter. Dismissed."

Lee saluted Commander Mayweather, and made exit from the room.

* * *

Phlox puttered about the Sick Bay as he hummed a Denobulan tune, and he did so while tending to a very sick Lt. Reed. Phlox was quite satisfied with his life at the moment, as he scraped tissue samples from the nasty sores which had developed all along the Human's face, after he'd exposed the lieutenant to some robust doses of radiation. Of course Lt. Reed felt nothing as the good doctor had seen fit to keep the man sedated since he'd been first brought in with plasma burns and shrapnel damage inflicted by the Gorn slavemaster's booby trap. Phlox truly meant to save Lt. Reed's life if possible, but if he failed, well, Phlox was certain that he could come by another patient easily enough, even if he had to induce a coma in an otherwise healthy patient.

The fact that he enjoyed unraveling medical mysteries through science, or the fact that he took great pride in his professional skills, these things were not first on the doctor's mind these days. The quality of the data which Commander Tucker had passed along was breathtaking, and Phlox meant to prove his loyalty to the Human, and in the process gain access to the rest of that medical data: he owed his life to Commander Tucker, and the man's fortune seemed to be on an upward trajectory, judging by the way this research was going. He might have the chance to offer the commander successful treatment much sooner than either of them would have suspected.

Just then, the chime announced a visitor to Sick Bay and Phlox came round the screen he'd placed around Lt. Reed, to lock eyes with T'Pol. The doctor's brows came together in a frown: this Vulcan had almost caused his death, so he was not best pleased to see her. Still, he was the ship's doctor…

"What can I do for you, T'Pol?" said Phlox.

"I need an analgesic," said T'Pol, and Phlox nodded, and indicated that she take a seat on one of the empty beds in Sick Bay, as he rummaged round the meds drawer.

Moments later, Phlox delivered the proper analgesic dose to T'Pol's bloodstream through the services of a hypospray, and said, "You're good to go, T'Pol."

T'Pol nodded, and said, "Thank you, Doctor."

Phlox nodded and moved to return to Lt. Reed and his samples, when T'Pol spoke.

"What happened that day, Doctor?" said T'Pol. "I heard you spent five hours in the Agony Booth."

"Commander Tucker apprehended me," said Phlox, "and took pity on me. I count myself lucky to have gotten off with time in the Agony Booth. Archer's punishment would have been much more unpleasant, and ultimately fatal, I'm certain of that. I was a fool to listen to you and Soval."

"Doctor, if the chance—"

"Good day, T'Pol," said Phlox.

T'Pol took in the doctor's stance and tightly controlled features and realized that Phlox was done with plotting, and probably done with her.

"Good day, Doctor."

* * *

Two hours after T'Pol's visit to Sick Bay, the Vulcan had cause to be glad for the strength of that analgesic, as the Empress had made bringing the Defiant up to combat readiness her first priority, and two large troop shuttles connected sequentially with the Access Hatch to disgorge hundreds of crewmen onto the Defiant, in order to bring that ship to a fully crewed status. Part of T'Pol's job was seeing that everyone was assigned to their proper duty stations and their bunks, so the Defiant was a beehive of activity as everyone settled in to their new postings.

Ten hours later, the hustle and bustle had largely died, and most crewmen were watching the Empress' coronation, transmitted live from Paris, from in front of the Eiffel Tower. It was an unconventional choice, but the Empress had always loved Paris, as visiting that city and the Eiffel Tower with her father was one of the few bright memories of her childhood, which the Empress still cared to recall.

The entire area in which the coronation was to be held was well lit, elegantly decorated, and wonderfully displayed for the benefit of the numerous camera crews. The Empress herself looked stunning in a red couture gown which flattered her figure to no end, and was a fitting match to the dazzling crown with which the Empress was adorned this night. Hundreds of thousands lined the Empress' route to the Tower, while millions watched the event as it was televised live, as the sheeple were already won over by the new Empress' beauty, which was only accented by the pomp and circumstance, which lasted for hours. At the end of it all, the Empress climbed into her limousine with the aid of a handsome StarFleet Commander and the Empress' convoy soon made way for the newly designated Imperial Palace in Europe. She had others, on every habitable continent.

* * *

Trip moved through the Defiant's hallways in order to reach his quarters, and have private access to the computer core through his cabin's workstation, while the majority of the crew watched the Empress' coronation ceremony. He'd been planning this move for weeks, waiting only for the time that the ship was fully crewed again, and that day was today.

Having Commander Mayweather on board would have not have hindered his plans in the least, for he'd anticipated his presence and made allowance for that man, but the fact that the Commander had left the ship only made his gambit easier. He'd laughed when one of his men told him that he needed the acting captain's signature to request some expensive equipment from StarFleet's HQ, and the man was nowhere to be found. No shuttles had left Defiant, but there had been one transporter beam-out, and it took just minutes to view the security camera feed, and identify that departure as Commander Mayweather.

Acting on a hunch, Trip tapped a few keys and pulled up the current chain of command, which was available to every crewmember, and constantly updated by the computer as personnel arrived or departed from the Defiant, and his name was at the top of the list as the highest ranking officer on board. That Mayweather had given Lee direct control over security meant nothing to the computer, and it was a classic rookie mistake, one that came from making commander due to nepotism, rather than hard won experience. Commander Mayweather should have designated Lee as acting captain: not that it would have made a difference. Trip would have killed Lee if necessary, in order to become the highest ranking officer aboard the Defiant once again.

"Computer," said Trip, and the computer chimed in response: it was awaiting his input. "Seal the Shuttle Bay doors, mechanically lock the Escape Pods in place, mechanically lock the Access Hatch, deactivate the transporter pads, and initiate self-destruct sequence Alpha-One-Niner. Tie all 1st tier command functions to my voice print, iris scan, and a chimera password."

The computer chimed in agreement with the orders of the highest ranking officer on board and chimed again a second later, that the orders had been carried out. That last order, that particular self-destruct sequence was envisioned as necessary when deep within enemy territory. The computer would request input from the highest ranking officer onboard periodically. A failure to respond by that officer essentially meant that the crew was dead, though that officer could designate up to ten backups in case of death or serious injury, and failing to provide a proper response by either the designated officer, or his alternates, would cause the ship to self-destruct in order to keep StarFleet technology out of the hands of the enemy.

It was a standard feature onboard all the NX ships, and Trip had added it to the operating system of the Defiant two days ago. That last, the chimera password, meant that Trip selected two passwords: a real one to postpone or cancel the self destruct sequence, and a chimera. Should all be lost, his enemies could press his eye up to a terminal to get his iris scan, could force him to talk in order to get voice print authorization, but if they tortured him, he'd give them the chimera password, the one that instructed the computer to self-destruct the ship immediately. Worst case scenario, he'd end his suffering, and take them all with him.

Now, to close the last loophole.

"Computer," said Trip, and the computer chimed.

"We are now under battle conditions, until I say otherwise," said Trip. "Secure the computer core."

The computer chimed in response.

Under battle conditions, the computer core initiated a lock down on accessing it's systems, and directly accessing the core with an assembly debugger as T'Pol had done earlier, in order to bypass the password requirement was now impossible. From an IT and Engineering viewpoint, declaring the ship to be under battle conditions was generally considered an undesirable state, as without access to the computer core, no upgrades could be performed, but from a security viewpoint it was a desirable state, as the functions of the computer core could not be tampered with, or hijacked.

Satisfied, Trip made his way to Engineering, to find half his crew there. The other half was off duty, as everyone on the Defiant worked twelve hour shifts, until the rookies could be integrated into their respective departments during the next few days. Trip deputized Sanders and Evers to contact those members of Engineering who were off duty, but only veterans and none of the rookies who had boarded the Defiant this day, and summon them all to Engineering. Fifteen minutes later, they were all assembled around the Defiant's warp engines, and Trip began the meeting.

He outlined the actions which he'd taken so far, and in truth he had done more than enough to commandeer the ship already, so the men round him began sporting hard grins, though that was understandable. Engineers, more than any other crewmembers, were the black sheep of the crew, the wild ones, and the reckless ones at times, despite the discipline of their training and their profession, and it was due to the fact that the typical ship's warp engines essentially slowly poisoned these engineers with slow and steady radioactive doses, so each and every man assembled here knew that he lived on borrowed time, as few engineers lived past fifty years of age, none past sixty, and every man here was facing that wall, so they willingly took chances which others declined as death would only release them from the radiation sickness most were already feeling to some degree or other.

"Jesus Christ, Chief," said Evers. "You really gonna do it…"

"We're gonna do it," said Trip, "if you're in. Those of you who want no part of this, can leave. Now. Return to your quarters and stay there till it's over. On my honor, I will not hold it against you."

No one stood and no one left. Everyone was in, so they discussed the matter for the next half hour, hashing out a few details, and then Trip stepped up to a wall mounted comm console.

"Computer," said Trip, and the computer chimed. "Reset all weapons locker combinations to 9705."

The computer chimed, and everyone stood.

"Go. You have five minutes to get to a weapons locker and load up," said Trip. "Don't shoot anyone unless necessary. The moves I've made, they don't leave the others many options. It's already done, and they'll fall in line if they want to live. Your rifles are there only to provide an incentive to make the right decision."

Most of the men shifted around now, bursting with nervous energy.

"Go," said Trip, and seconds later, he was alone in Engineering.

Five minutes later, he opened up the intercomm, and made a ship-wide announcement: "This is Commander Tucker. As of now, I am in command of the Defiant. I have gone through the trouble of sabotaging the Defiant with a dead-mans switch, and taking measures to see that my work is not safely undone. This crew will now follow my commands, and my commands alone, in order to live. Or you can all choose to act against me for the sake of an Empress not even a week into her reign, and you will then die, one way or another. So, ask yourselves if service to the Empress is worth your life, knowing that you'll never live to collect any sort of reward. Submit, or fight, it's time to choose."

As Trip had predicted, the crew had little choice. A few veterans from Security might have had more experience with treachery than Commander Tucker, and might have been willing to assassinate the man, now or later, but they knew the man well, and they were fully cognizant of the fact that Commander Tucker was willing to die and take them all to hell in the process, in order to achieve his goals. One by one, each department head soon reached out to Commander Tucker in order to pledge their loyalty, for what that was worth: for his part, Trip was not expecting loyalty - he would be satisfied with obedience.

* * *

T'Pol, whose meditations were interrupted by Commander Tucker's announcement, was stunned by the man's actions. She had no clue what all this meant, or where Commander Tucker meant to go from here. Was he aiming for the crown himself? That had to be his goal, otherwise his actions were illogical. How would he go about it? She had to find out, and she had to do so using her psychic powers over the man. It was risky, given how displeased the man had been when she'd admitted psychically manipulating him not long past, but it was a chance she had to take in order to grasp his intent, and perhaps 'guide' him into making the proper choices, perhaps even against his will.

* * *

The Empress laughed aloud as Commander Mayweather made a show of stripping to his shorts in rhythm to some silly Brazilian song he'd chosen to pipe through the sound system. It was ridiculous of him to even attempt the act but he was actually pulling it off, and making it sexy, then Travis begged off to go hunt down a bottle of champagne.

What a day, thought the Empress, waiting for Travis to return. I'd never have dared dream any of this. The Crown, the Empire, and Commander Mayweather to replace Captain Forrest.

Just then, her comm unit buzzed.

"What!" said the Empress, after pressing the comm button on her nightstand. "I left orders that I was not to be disturbed!"

"I apologize," said the hotel's manager, terrified now. "I have a call for you from the Defiant, and I was told it was an emergency, Majesty."

The Defiant, thought the Empress with a start.

"Put it through to my bedroom, in ten seconds," said the Empress.

"Yes, Majesty," said the manager.

The Empress slipped into a black silk robe and stood before the large, wall mounted, video monitor, which flickered to life in order to display the image of Commander Tucker, seated in the Captain's Chair, and something about the man's face told the Empress that she wouldn't be pleased by the contents of this call.

"What is it, Commander Tucker?" said the Empress, poised.

"I've taken command of the Defiant, Majesty," said Trip.

Hoshi controlled her anger and her anguish, but just barely.

"I see," said the Empress. "And you called to gloat?"

"Not at all, Empress," said Trip. "I aim to be of service to you."

"How so?" said the Empress: she dared to hope that the man wished only to extort rank and wealth from her: those things were hers to grant in return for the Defiant, and she might even let Commander Tucker keep them, such would be her gratitude for the return of her ship.

"I have things to do before we join in battle," said Trip. "Take advantage of the time you have left, Majesty. Bring in reinforcements from the units manning the borders of your Empire, and prepare for battle."

"Why would you do me any favors?" said the Empress. "You could kill me now and take the crown, as I did in my turn."

"It serves my interests that you live, and that you fight, Empress," said Trip.

"How?"

"I know you, Majesty. You'll do a good job of drawing to you every single force which would oppose my rule," said Trip. "That will spare me the task of hunting them down, as well as eliminating my opposition, and that will benefit me as well, as I intend to change nature of the Empire."

"Change it how?" said the Empress.

"That's none of your business," said Trip. "In any case you won't be part of that process, Empress, as you'll be dead, unless you intend to abdicate your crown in my favor of course. Then you live. But I know you better than that, Majesty. You won't let your only chance to rule slip from you without a fight."

"You're right about that, Commander Tucker," said the Empress.

"Good. Until we meet again, Majesty," said Trip, and his end of the transmission was terminated, leaving the Empress with her thoughts.

"I found two bottles of the good stuff," said Travis, the champagne bottles of champagne in his hands. "I almost had to fight an old—"

The Empress spun round, and the look on her face froze the man in his tracks.

"What happened?" asked Commander Mayweather.

"We've got problems," said the Empress, in the understatement of the century.

* * *

Soon after concluding his call with the Empress, the self-made Captain Tucker looked at his Helm Officer, and said, "Take us out of here."

"What course, Captain?"

"Andoria," said Trip.

On hearing that from her station on the Bridge, T'Pol started slightly, and thought: "What in the blasted hell that is the Forge does Captain Tucker seek on Andoria?"


	6. Chapter 6

— **Chapter 06—**

Moments after giving the command to set course for Andoria, Captain Tucker left the Bridge, and T'Pol hurried after him. Though she'd normally have been one of the candidates to take command of the Defiant in the absence of the captain, Captain Tucker had seen fit to leave T'Pol outside the chain of command, and though it stung a bit, T'Pol grudgingly admitted that Captain Tucker had a justifiable reason for doing so. In any case, that omission freed her now to follow after the man, while one of the rookies stationed on the Bridge for just such occasions, took T'Pol's place at the Science station: the Bridge was always fully manned.

"A moment, Captain Tucker," said T'Pol, and hurried after the man, for he refused to stop.

"What is it, T'Pol?" said Trip, as he and T'Pol entered the turbo-lift.

"I wondered if I might ask the reason for our current course to Andoria?"

"That's none of your business, T'Pol," said Trip. "But we'll pass within shuttle range of Vulcan, and I'll make one of the shuttles accessible to you, so that you may return home."

"I have my duty aboard the Defiant, Captain," said T'Pol, heart racing: this ship was too dangerous, and it's captain too unpredictable, to have it acting without some Vulcan guidance, or at least a Vulcan presence to take note of it's systems and it's movements, and pass that information back to Vulcan if possible.

"Your duty to the Defiant ended when you tried to destroy this ship, T'Pol," said Trip, exiting the turbo-lift, T'Pol still in tow. "But you've been helpful the past couple of days, and in return, I give you life."

"My duty to the Empire is more important than my life, Captain," said T'Pol: she would change his mind. She would bed the man tonight, and change his mind.

"I've just told you that you have no duty here, and why! Why don't you listen? In any case, don't sweat it, T'Pol," said Trip as he came to stand before the transporter pad. "As you've no doubt guessed, I intend to take the crown, and I intend to give your people what they apparently want."

Momentarily distracted, as the man had given her a wide smile as he'd said that, T'Pol now watched as Captain Tucker brought the transporter systems online. That made no sense to T'Pol, as the ship was in the middle of nowhere. Did this madman think to transport himself into the vacuum of space? Or perhaps stun her, and beam her out into space?

"And what is that?" said T'Pol warily. "What do Vulcans want?"

"I intend to give Vulcan freedom," said Trip, "from the Terran Empire. You're out."

T'Pol was stunned on hearing that. Could Captain Tucker be telling the truth? Oh, that would be something which she'd never dared to dream!

"Freedom?" said T'Pol, uncertain she'd heard the man correctly.

"Yes," said Captain Tucker, fiddling with the transporter's controls.

"What the hell is he doing? thought T'Pol, only to have her questions answered a moment later, when Captain Tucker energized an energy signature apparently held in the buffer, and transported Soval onto one of the Defiant's transporter pads, and it would be fair to say that both Vulcans were utterly stunned.

T'Pol had long given up Soval for dead, yet here he was, and his presence raised questions for T'Pol. It was apparent that Captain Tucker had been Soval's savior. But why?

As for Soval, he'd been an instant from death when Trip had beamed him off the Avenger's burning Bridge, and the transition to the quiet and orderly deck of the Defiant was startling, for Soval had no recollection of the time he'd spent as an energy signature, though he winced when he saw Commander Tucker.

Trip noticed that wince, and said, "Relax, Soval. You're safe here. I'm the captain of the Defiant now."

Captain, thought Soval? What happened to Archer? Did T'Pol kill him? But no, she's free and alive…

"I don't understand, Captain," said Soval.

"I'll explain over tea," said Trip, and Soval nodded gratefully. "Come."

Both Vulcans moved to follow Captain Tucker, but Trip turned on T'Pol, and said, "Not you, T'Pol. Report to your quarters, now, while I speak to Soval. Meditate. After we're done speaking, I'll send him to your quarters, and you two can catch up in private, and I imagine he'll have lots of questions."

T'Pol nodded and left them both, while Trip guided Soval to the mess hall. Once there, Trip excused himself briefly, to access the wall mounted comm console.

"Tucker to Security," said Trip.

"Yes, Captain," said Lee, who'd made his peace with Captain Tucker, given that the alternative was death.

"T'Pol should be in her quarters soon," said Trip. "Verify this for a fact using the computer, then activate confinement protocol on her cabin, and post a man outside her door. She's restricted to quarters, save for three hours daily, and she's to be monitored the entire time she's outside her cabin."

"Yes, Captain," said Lee: the confinement protocol which the captain had requested would keep the door to the Vulcan's quarters securely shut, unless an officer or one of the personnel from Security opened the door from the outside.

Trip noted Soval's raised brow and laughed.

"The last time you two got together with full freedom to move about the ship, you tried to kill us all, Soval," said Trip. "I aim to prevent a recurrence of that event. You do understand…"

"I do, Captain," said Soval, and allowed Trip to guide him past the crewmen's mess, to the captain's mess.

Once seated, the captain spoke briefly to his steward, and soon after the steward brought out two cups and a cast iron pot of hot Ceylon tea, the already fragrant tea scented further by the addition of some cracked cardamom pods, and then left the room in order to place the captain's food order.

"So, Soval," said Trip, "I imagine you have some questions, but in order to get the ball rolling, I will tell you that I transported you off the Bridge of the Avenger, just before Archer blew your ship to hell."

"I had surmised that such was the case," said Soval. "Why did you do that, Captain Tucker?"

"I owed you a life, Soval," said Trip, "and I always pay my debts."

Soval nodded his head, understanding now. Two years past, Soval had served aboard the Enterprise for a time, and during that time he had indeed saved Captain Tucker's life, when a lieutenant from the Science department tried to sink a dagger into then Commander Tucker's back over a personal disagreement: killing a superior was tolerated if well done, and preferably done subtly, but the lieutenant's attempt had been pathetically blunt, and shortsighted. Accordingly, the man had shortly thereafter been executed.

"In that case, Captain," said Soval, "the debt is truly paid. What now for me? The Brig?"

"You're my guest, Soval," said Trip. "If you give me your word to behave, you may move about the ship freely, save for a few sensitive areas. You'll be watched carefully, but no more than that so long as you behave."

"Why me, Captain?" said Soval. "Why not restrict me, and allow T'Pol that degree of freedom?"

"T'Pol's a fetching little beast, Soval, but she's treacherous, and she's manipulative, and she's a pain in the ass," said Trip, "and I've had it with her games. As for you, Soval, I find your calm and your sobriety agreeable. You have nothing to fear from me, unless you decide to do something stupid."

Soval nodded at the compliment, and assured the captain that he'd be on his best behavior, and then both men fell silent as the steward brought out two large plates, and a basket of thick, fluffy, sesame seed topped flatbreads for them to share. Soval studied his plate curiously. It looked quite appetizing.

Three kebob skewers of cubed meats, grilled over a hardwood charcoal fire. One lamb, one chicken, one swordfish brushed with butter, all resting on a bed of yellow saffron scented rice, a roasted eggplant puree flavored by roasted garlic and drizzled with olive oil, an onion and chickpea curry colored red from the chili powder, and a large serving of a chopped parsley, tomato and garlic salad, flavored by fresh lemon juice and olive oil.

Soval nodded his appreciation to the captain, and the men dug into their plates, pausing only occasionally to nod, moan, or groan, in appreciation of Chef's skills. Eventually the contents of their plates was consumed, and the plates removed, only to be replaced by small shallow bowls in which rested a generous portion of Turkish kaymak, a rich soft cheese which had been truly drowned in honey. The two diners spread the honeyed cheese over bread and finished off their meal, chasing it all down with a more hot tea, and then Soval spoke.

"So, if I may ask, Captain," said Soval, "what do you propose to do with the Defiant?"

"I mean to take the crown, Soval," said Trip, "and I'll tell you this much: the Empire is riddled with corruption, and waste, and inefficiency, and injustice, and I intend to reform the Empire, and rectify the situation."

"I see," said Soval. "What you say is true, Captain. May I ask how you intend to deal with the Vulcan and Andorian rebels?"

"The Andorian rebels, I'll kill them all, unless they submit," said Trip. "As for the Vulcans, rebel or not, I intend—"

"Captain to the Bridge," said a voice over the ship's intercomm.

The interruption came at the worst possible time, for Soval would have given much to hear the captain complete the sentence, but Trip stood, and said, "I have to go, Soval. Feel free to visit with T'Pol, and take her some kaymak and honey, bread and tea. I'll speak to Security about giving you access to her quarters, and I will see rooms assigned to you in just a bit."

"Yes, Captain," said Soval. "Gratitude, for my life, and your benevolent treatment."

* * *

Ten minutes later Soval entered T'Pol's quarters with her permission, after the door's chime alerted T'Pol that she had a visitor. The Vulcan seemed a bit surprised to see a Security officer outside her door, then gestured that Soval should set the tray with tea, bread, kaymak and honey on her coffee table. Once they were both seated, T'Pol spoke.

"It seems that the captain has seen fit to restrict me to my quarters," said T'Pol, giving Soval an inquisitive look. "Either that, or Security is actually tailing you."

"It is you, T'Pol," said Soval. "Regrettably, Captain Tucker suspects that we will plot once more to destroy the Defiant. In addition, he does not seem to have a great deal of faith in you."

T'Pol nodded, poured tea for them both, and said, "I suppose his sentiments are understandable on both counts, Soval. Circumstances forced me to compel the man to perform some actions which caused him to spend a few hours in the Agony Booth, and he's never forgiven me for that act, more for my perceived betrayal than the pain. Are you also restricted to quarters?"

Soval shook his head in denial, and then sipped his tea.

"May I ask what you and Captain Tucker discussed during lunch?" said T'Pol, spreading some honey and cream on a piece of still warm bread.

"Much of it was pleasant small talk," said Soval, "but we got to the heart of the matter eventually, and it seems that Captain Tucker intends to take the crown from the Emperor."

"Empress," said T'Pol, after swallowing the morsel in her hand, for Soval had been in suspended animation as it were, during the recent change of power. "Empress Sato, formerly this ship's Comm officer."

"Really?" said Soval, and the two spoke for an hour, on the course of recent events which Soval had missed. Then: "Fascinating, T'Pol. What do you think the Captain's chances of taking the crown?"

"Quite good, Soval," said T'Pol, "especially as the Defiant destroyed a dozen NX class ships during the first clash between loyalist forces and the Defiant. That's twelve fewer ships for the Defiant to face in combat, of the best class which the Humans produce. I believe it will be a battle of numbers versus quality, as I suspect the Empress means to recall every ship available to her in order to defend her crown. I would still bet the house on Captain Tucker."

Soval nodded, but said nothing.

"But I have good news," said T'Pol, "assuming that the Captain was speaking truthfully to me."

"What is the news, T'Pol?"

"Captain Tucker intends to…" said T'Pol, subtly drawing her words out in order to toy with the older man a bit, "set Vulcan free of the Empire and—"

T'Pol stopped speaking, for Soval's reaction was not all she had hoped that it would be, as although the man's hand was shaking, and the initial expression on his face was shock, what followed closely behind the shock, was distress!

"What, Soval? I don't understand," said T'Pol, agitated now, for though she considered herself a clever girl, she'd always looked up to Soval, who was just as intelligent or more, and far more experienced with life in general, and politics in particular.

Soval said nothing as the ramifications of T'Pol's statement ran through his mind, and agreed with the unspoken portion of the captain's statement: he would destroy the Andorian rebels, yet Vulcan loyalist and rebel would be treated alike… discarded. Finally, Soval grew aware of T'Pol's scrutiny, and noted the concern in her eyes, and her puzzlement.

"The captain's promise of Vulcan freedom from the Empire is not a boon, T'Pol, but a poison pill," said Soval. "Captain Tucker has always seemed agreeable to me in his dealings with Vulcans, but he obviously hates us now: he's intelligent enough to know what he's doing. If that hatred is the result of your manipulation, you must regain his trust, no matter the cost, T'Pol!"

"I don't understand, Soval," said T'Pol. "Perhaps you misheard me. All I said is that Captain Tucker means to give us freedom from the Empire!"

Soval scoffed at that, and said, "Freedom? Or a curse which will weigh on our people much more than our current status within the Terran Empire."

"Quit dancing round the issue, Soval," said T'Pol, "and tell me what you see, that I do not."

"Consider the state of our galaxy, T'Pol," said Soval. "On one side, we have the Romulan Star Empire, the Klingon Empire, and between them a broad swath of space so heavily populated by the Orion Syndicate and its pirate ships that it might as well be the Orion Empire. Below the Klingon we have the Gorn Confederacy, and across from them to the other side of our map we have the Tholians. Above the Tholians we have the Cardassian Empire, and above the Cardassians we have the Breen Empire. Smack dab in the middle of them all, we have the Terran Empire, which includes Vulcan and Andoria."

"Yes, so?" said T'Pol, still puzzled.

"Think, T'Pol," said Soval. "Captain Tucker means to keep Andoria, and rid himself of Vulcan!"

"So what?" said T'Pol. "That gives us the freedom to chart our own course, Soval."

"The moment it becomes known that the Humans will no longer defend our space," said Soval, "any and perhaps all of these surrounding empires will make a move on us, T'Pol, starting with our dear cousins, the Romulans."

T'Pol sighed. She should have seen that possibility, yet she'd been to dazzled by the promise of freedom to consider the options.

"Perhaps you are mistaken, Soval," said T'Pol, fully aware that it might well turn out as Soval had predicted. "In any case, we can beat back the Romulans."

"Even if that were true, and I say that issue is in doubt," said Soval, "it would only bleed us out, make it even easier for the next aggressor to roll over us, and someone will do so, T'Pol, I guarantee it. Our treatment and our status at the hands of whatever new principality finally gains hold of Vulcan will be far worse than our second hand status in the Terran Empire. Trust me, we will look back with deep longing and nostalgia for the gentle ways of the Terran Empire, T'Pol, and if Captain Tucker is truly set against us, he will not have us back."

T'Pol understood Soval's distress now, and granted that the former ambassador's predictions could well be accurate.

"Perhaps he will not be able to hold the Andorians," said T'Pol. "Perhaps we could join forces with the Andorians and—"

"Now you are fooling yourself, T'Pol," said Soval. "Only the Humans keep the Andorians from our throats, and us from the Andorians. I am aware that some of the rebel forces contain ships of both our respective species, but take away a common enemy, and we will fall apart, and shortly after that, fall on each other."

"You do not know that," said T'Pol.

"Eighty years of diplomatic experience tell me that my odds of being correct are better than even, T'Pol. Much more than even. Meanwhile, the Terran Empire, newly invigorated by a stream of new technology and quite possibly a talented ruler, will excel, and in the process leave us far behind, with egg on our faces."

"In that case, I will seduce Captain Tucker, and then implant some suggestions," said T'Pol, "in order to help him see that Vulcan should be set free, yet still defended by the Terran Empire. It can be done."

"No!" said Soval. "If you fumble the attempt it will only harden his heart against us."

"He will not detect my maneuver, Soval," said T'Pol. "He did not detect it the previous time."

"You have told me that he is wary of you now, T'Pol. He will detect your attempt, and that will ruin things up beyond repair."

"I can bed the man and kill him then," said T'Pol.

"Think, T'Pol. His successor may well be much worse than Captain Tucker," said Soval. "The captain has always been a fair man. The next captain of the Defiant may easily be a brute."

"So what do we do, Soval?" said T'Pol. "You must bring the matter up to our people, and we must decide as one, whether to support Captain Tucker, or the Empress, whether to remain in the Empire, or seek a way out."

"Yes," said Soval. "I will speak to Captain Tucker, see what he intends for us both, perhaps we can get word to our people somehow."

And I, thought T'Pol, I will do what I think best from my end, regardless of your wishes, Soval. I have swayed Captain Tucker before, and I will do so again. That I find the sexual encounters with which I bait Captain Tucker enjoyable, does not affect the propriety of my course.

T'Pol helped herself to another morsel of honey and cream spread on warm sesame seed flatbread, and then a sip of tea, all while wondering on how she should proceed with her plans.


	7. Chapter 7

— **Chapter 07—**

T'Pol waited impatiently for the rest of the day, expecting that sooner or later, Captain Tucker would make an appearance and explain the reason for her confinement to quarters in person, but the man never showed. Eventually, at 1900 hours, the comm unit signaled that someone was reaching out to her, and T'Pol answered the summons.

"Yes," said T'Pol.

"Security here," said Lee. "You may leave your room to access the gym, Mess Hall, or any other communal areas of the ship, for the next three hours, today and every day after this, until the captain lifts your restrictions. You will be monitored the entire time. Trying to evade our surveillance, or enter sensitive areas of the ship, would be a mistake."

"Understood," said T'Pol.

She left her quarters immediately, heading directly for the captain's mess, as Captain Tucker usually began his last meal of the day at 1900 hours or so, save for a sweet snack late in the night. She got there within minutes, only to find Captain Tucker hosting Soval and the good Doctor Phlox, at the captain's table. They'd just sat down apparently, as none of them had food before them, though all of them had drinks. Iced water for all, then tequila for Phlox, wine for Soval, and sake for Captain Tucker.

"I hope that I did not keep you waiting too long," said T'Pol smartly. "Since I am confined to quarters, my time is not my own."

"You didn't keep us waiting, because you were not invited, T'Pol," said Trip, a smile on his face.

Good, thought T'Pol. Captain Tucker is amused, rather than angered by my effrontery.

"Nonsense," said T'Pol. "You did invite me, Captain. Did you forget? The stress of command is clearly wearing on you."

"You're right, I forgot," said Trip, that grin still on his face, and then the captain looked at his steward. "Please set another place at the table, Ensign."

"Yes, sir," said the steward.

T'Pol took a place at the table between Phlox and Soval, though she'd have preferred that Soval move, so that she could sit next to Captain Tucker: the attitudinal changes in the man since he'd taken command of the Defiant were quite agreeable. He was both, more easy going, and more commanding, since he'd freed himself of the authority of other men, and for her part, T'Pol hoped to lure the man back to her quarters this night: she intended to get some more of the aggressive sex which the captain had been delivering in his attempts to prove his total indifference to her charms, and then she'd make her move eventually, in order to establish her control over the man, but that was for later. She noted idly, that between her, Soval and Phlox, all of the original conspirators to the Defiant's destruction were now in one room with the captain of the ship, but she also knew that the captain's mess was under surveillance, by the team of Security personnel in the next room. One wrong move, and they'd rush the room, and more than that, Soval had been right - what if the next captain was worse?

"As you were saying, Doctor?" said Trip.

"Ah, yes, Captain," said Phlox, after shooting some tequila. "My treatment of Lt. Reed has produced some noticeable results. A bit more tweaking and I believe I'll have the man back on his feet, soon enough to be of some use to you."

"That's good news, Doctor," said Trip, and T'Pol did not understand the man's interest in Lt. Reed's status: the two had always disliked each other, but perhaps the captain wished to grind the lieutenant down to nothing, now that he had complete command over the man. "Treat yourself to another shot."

"I believe I will," said Phlox, and took a shot, and then another, laughing merrily: well, the doctor was not a heavy drinker, so he was feeling it.

Soval reached over to fill T'Pol's wine glass from his bottle, and T'Pol nodded gratefully, and then they placed their food orders before returning to their social chatter.

"Perhaps the Captain could inform me as to why I've been confined to quarters?" said T'Pol. "That has never been adequately explained to me."

"I don't have to explain anything to you, T'Pol," said Trip, "but since we're all friends here, I'll tell you that I thought it prudent to see that you are well controlled. I'd hate to see you make another attempt to destroy the Defiant, because then I'd have to kill you all."

"Oh, no," said Phlox, "not me! I'm done with intrigue and plots. I'm too simple a man to do well at that. Rather, I will do my best to be of use, and hope to be rewarded in the end."

"Your loyalty is appreciated, and noted, Doctor," said Trip raising his sake cup, and the Doctor took a shot of his tequila in concert with Trip's own shot.

"The same is true for me," said Soval. "Events are rushing at us all, and I prefer to gamble on you, Captain Tucker. The reason for my treasonous actions should be clear enough, because I think we can all agree that Captain Archer was insane, or close to it, and not to be trusted with such a weapon as the Defiant."

"What about you, T'Pol?" said Trip, while glancing at the Vulcan with a shit-eating grin. "Will you also pledge your undying loyalty to me?"

"Of course, Captain," said T'Pol, "and I hope you'll allow me to prove my loyalty to you, soon."

Trip nodded, having noted Soval's frown, and T'Pol's particular look which presented an innocent facade, meant to hide the scheming of her heart, a look which he recognized from experience.

"Look at her," said Trip, pouring himself another shot of sake. "She smiles, and makes seemingly heartfelt promises, while her eyes betray her. Be careful, T'Pol. Plot, and fail to achieve success, and I'll have the good doctor here lobotomize you, and then I'll keep you as my pet. You wouldn't like that."

"Actually, I might," said T'Pol. "Should I displease you greatly, promise me to do as you've just said, Captain. I've always imagined that I might make a good le-matya kitten, laying about, being pampered, being spoiled."

"Le-matya?" said Trip.

"A Vulcan feline, Captain," said Soval.

"Done," said Trip, and T'Pol raised her wine glass towards the captain, in agreement with their bargain.

The food arrived then, and everyone ate lightly, save for Trip. Sushi for Phlox, a BBQ plate with ribs, brisket and pulled pork for Trip, soup, salad and a light pilaf for Soval, and a bowl of black beans & rice topped with a grilled turkey sausage for T'Pol, supplemented by a nicely toasted and buttered sourdough baguette.

They made small talk for the next two hours as they ate, and then eventually, Phlox begged off in order to return to his laboratory and his research.

"Well, I have things to do as well," said Trip while looking at Soval, once Phlox had made his exit. "Feel free to sit and chat with T'Pol, until her time runs out."

"Actually," said Soval, "I will head for the forward observation deck with your permission, Captain. I have to assimilate a great many changes, and I feel the need to meditate."

Trip nodded, and Soval left.

"Hit the gym, T'Pol," said Trip, "work off some of your excess energy, after being cooped up all day."

"I am fine, Captain Tucker, but perhaps you would like to join me in my quarters," said T'Pol. "We could spend some time in private, and talk…"

"You're not that interesting a conversationalist these days, T'Pol," said Trip, a smug look on his face. "You're too busy making plans."

Just then the captain's steward entered the room.

"Anything else, Captain?"

"No, thank you, Ensign," said Trip. "Dismiss the security detail, and go about your business. We're done here."

"Yes, sir," said the ensign, leaving Trip and T'Pol alone, and moments later, they heard the security team making their exit through a side door.

"Well, if you find my conversational skills lacking," said T'Pol, "perhaps we could divert ourselves in a more agreeable manner, Captain."

"Why go through the trouble to drag me to your quarters for privacy, T'Pol?" said Trip. "You've got me all alone now. That is what you wanted, no?"

T'Pol's trained eye, picked up the watchful look in the captain's eyes, and the subtle readiness in his posture.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Captain," said T'Pol. "I only want to please you. Tell me how."

"Fair enough," said Trip. "Stand up and remove your top."

"Captain?"

"You heard me," said Trip, "and you only want to please me, right? That's what you said. You just need me to tell you how."

"Yes, Captain," said T'Pol: here or in her quarters, it was all the same really, and within seconds T'Pol stood nude above the waist.

"Lovely," said Trip with a smile. "Now, place your hands behind your back."

T'Pol did so, and moments later, felt Captain Tucker bind her hands behind her back quite securely, with his canvas belt. This presented an unexpected hurdle in T'Pol's plans.

"I am not sure what is happening, Captain," said T'Pol, her face flushed: she was a clever girl, she knew exactly what was happening.

"That should be apparent, T'Pol," said Trip, as he slid down the bottom half of T'Pol's uniform, and helped the Vulcan step out of it. "I want you to enjoy yourself, T'Pol, and I don't want you to suffer the pesky distraction of your fingers unconsciously seeking to touch the psi points on my face."

So he knows, or at least suspects, thought T'Pol, and realized that she and the captain had not been intimate since he'd taken command of the Defiant… the clever bastard clearly doubted the purity of her motives. T'Pol sighed: she'd have to rethink her approach. But not now, for the captain helped her onto the table, then took the liberty of tasting her body, starting with her lips, and going down… By the time the captain had finished his little tour of her body, T'Pol was flushed and aroused, and did not object when the man helped her to dismount the table, and press her face down upon it. Moments later she felt his hands on her hips, and felt him enter her roughly from behind, wrenching a moan from her throat. How long he made use of her she could not say, for as the captain worked his will with her, T'Pol floated on a cloud, her thoughts of treachery long gone, and after a while she climaxed, and then shortly afterwards, climaxed again.

"Good girl," said Trip, after T'Pol's second orgasm, and allowed himself to peak as well.

He helped T'Pol up then, and kissed her at his leisure before he freed her hands, and dressed then, while T'Pol did the same.

When they were both dressed, Trip said, "You've had enough fun for tonight, T'Pol, and your time's about up. Return to your quarters before Security comes looking for you."

"Yes, Captain," said T'Pol.

She was blushing madly now which gave her face an emerald tint, and her thoughts still scrambled by the yeoman's work the captain had performed with an admirable zeal. T'Pol was far from a virgin, but lately it seemed that her mind was at war with herself. Part of her wanted to control this man, and through him this ship, while another part of her simply relished his presence and his touch, and wanted only to draw closer to him. She'd have almost suspected that the Blood Fever was coming upon her, which would explain such feelings, but the timing was not right. Yet Vulcans did not form permanent bonds, so the combination of all these factors served only to confuse T'Pol.

* * *

Meal finished and T'Pol well cared for, Trip headed for Sick Bay, only to be greeted by the always cheerful Phlox.

"Ah," said Phlox, "I did not expect to see you again so soon, Captain."

"Do you ever sleep, Doctor?"

"The research I'm conducting now is too exciting to allow for even the possibility of sleep, Captain," said Phlox. "Come. Look."

Phlox led Trip around the screen which gave Lt. Reed some degree of privacy in his misery, and Trip immediately noted the improvements in the nature of the bleeding sores and pus ridden boils which covered Reed's face. They were still there, but the bleeding had stopped for the most part, and the boils were much smaller.

"See," said Phlox, "my treatment is making a real difference for Lt. Reed, and the boils are responding to antibiotics now while the bleeding has largely been curtailed. I've also noted an improvement in Lt. Reed's readings all across the board. He'd be conscious now if I was not purposely keeping him sedated."

"Impressive," said Trip.

"More than you suspect, Captain," said Phlox. "Remember, Lt. Reed's been subjected to a much higher dose of radiation than you and your Engineering crew. Your improvements would be more drastic than his."

"How long?" said Trip, meaning, how long before you can began the treatment on my crew and I.

"Let's wait a few weeks," said Phlox, "and make certain I haven't missed anything which might harm you all. The delay will also help me determine if what I'm delivering is a permanent cure, or a treatment which will have to be repeated periodically."

"Aim for a cure, Doctor," said Trip, "and I'll have something even better for your next project."

"I can't wait," said Phlox, smiling in anticipation. "May I ask what field of medicine I'll be delving into next?"

"Let's keep it a surprise," said Trip, "in order to motivate you to greater progress here, Doctor."

"Very well," said Phlox. "Now come look at this."

Trip bent over Lt. Reed's face, and watched as the doctor pulled at the corner's of a small, dry, sore, using some medical tweezers. It came away with only slight resistance, and beneath that, the lieutenant's face was a healthy tint of pink. Trip looked at Phlox, stunned, and the Denobulan smiled.

"Very impressive, Doctor," said Trip. "Keep at it, and I'll check back with you soon."

"Very good," said Phlox, turning his attention to Lt. Reed before Captain Tucker had even left the Sick Bay.

* * *

After leaving Phlox to his research, Trip headed for the Holding Locker on Deck G, Section 37. That area was a desolate enough place as it was, since its only function was to serve as storage space, but he'd taken a Jeffrey's tube here which was used solely by the engineers, thus avoiding the security cameras in the turbo-lift and hallways, and what's more, he'd disabled the security cameras in this section, which passed notice since this entire section was still a NO-GO zone. It took a few minutes of Trip's time to verify that all of his own monitoring devices were still adequately powered and functioning properly, and then Trip entered the Holding Locker once again.

Since accidentally killing the two schemers using the Tantalus Field, Trip had used that device only in it's surveillance capacity, and it had been amusing at that, if only in practice. Given the potential usefulness of the Tantalus Field, Trip was motivated to uncover the uses of the other items in this locker, so he'd taken photos of each item earlier in the day, input those photos in the computer system, and asked the computer to match text descriptions within the vast database he'd uncovered, to the photos. The computer had uncovered 96 matches, but many of the matches referred to the same type of item, or other, and so he ended with only 19 unique hits. Much better than nothing, and that's why he was here.

Trip approached the shelves along the walls of the room, and in short order he found the item he was looking for: a plain bracelet some three inches wide, made of a dimly lustrous gray metal mesh, and given it's color and simple construction, would pass notice by most people, and even then, it's very simplicity meant it could be worn by either sex without undue attention. Trip slipped it over his left hand and up to his wrist, and noted that the metal seemed to stretch, surprising as that was. He also noted that the mesh did not bunch up, but maintained it's shape, so it was probably reinforced somehow, though that reinforcement was not apparent.

Taking a breath and still unsure what to expect as his research may have confused this item for another, Trip reached out to touch the wall mounted comm console. As his hand drew within six inches of the comm unit, Trip suddenly experienced the oddest feeling. He sensed the flow of comm traffic passing through the system, and soon after, he realized that he could pick out any particular comm packet from that flow, at the mere thought of it.

Oh, this was a diagnostic tool of some sort, but what a tool! And perhaps it was more than just a tool.

Trip listened in on a few conversations sequentially just for the hell of it, then listened in to a a few at once somehow, then with further effort, he got up to seventeen conversations at once, though it was quite difficult: still, it would be interesting to see if he could improve on that number with time. Now, with sudden inspiration, Trip reached out to the Bridge, activating the link without any physical actions.

"Tucker to Bridge."

"Yes, Captain," said the night watch officer.

"Status?"

"All's well, Captain."

"Good," said Trip, and disconnected the comm connection at will.

He secured the Holding Locker and then took the same route out of the section, using the Jeffrey's tube. He touched a few of the power conduits running inside the tubes, and felt the flow of power through the system as well as a minor problem, a break in the proper flow of power, and after that he touched the data cables, and felt the status of the ship's computer, the data it was handling, he studied a few of the data streams seemingly flowing through him, and he sighed at the wonder of it all. Eventually making his way out of the Jeffrey's tube, Trip passed by Engineering, in order to pass along a fact which he'd noticed earlier, while feeling the flow of power through the system.

"Hey, Chief," said Hawkins, one of the night crew, and a rookie.

"Hey, Hawkins," said Trip. "You've got a short on Deck B, Section 9."

"Yeah, I just got the report, Chief," said Hawkins. "It was just called it in, and Kovac's about to leave and check it out. How did you know about it?"

"It's my job," said Trip, "to know these things."

"Right," said Hawkins.

Trip took the turbo-lift for the Bridge then, and took the captain's chair when the night watch officer naturally vacated that seat. Everything passed through the captain's chair: comm cables, power cables, data cables, and the sum of it all was the Defiant's lifeblood, and with the aid of this device on his wrist, Trip felt it all, controlled it all. Just for the sake of testing the efficiency of the bracelet, he turned lights on and off on various decks, severed communications across the entire ship, altered the pull of gravity throughout the ship, and then in individual sections and decks, fired a salvo from the phaser cannons, communicated directly with the ship's computer, the bracelet translating his thoughts somehow to binary code, while the computer executed his commands with almost instant response times. That done, Trip made a public announcement for the communal areas of the ship that Engineering had just run some tests, and that those tests had been concluded. He vacated his seat then, and made way for his quarters. He still had more research to do.

* * *

Later, while T'Pol laid in her bunk and wrestled with her thoughts, the good doctor Phlox was draining liquid from Lt. Reed's lungs, while Trip studied engine schematics so advanced they seemed almost magical, and Soval meditated, searching for the proper course his people should take in dealing with the changes which the Defiant was bringing to the Empire. Meanwhile, the night watch of the Defiant wondered where this captain was taking them, wondering if they'd still be alive a week from now, a month, a year, and all this as the ship hurdled through space towards Andoria at best speed.


	8. Chapter 8

— **Chapter 08—**

Trip was going over the reports generated by each department head for that day, when the chime sounded, announcing a visitor to his Ready Room.

"Enter," said Trip. "Ah, Soval. Good morning."

"Captain," said Soval. "I hope that I am not intruding."

"Not at all, Soval," said Trip, gesturing that the Vulcan should take a seat. "What can I do for you?"

"I was hoping to discuss your plans for the future, Captain," said Soval. "Particularly where and how Vulcan fits into your vision."

"I'm sure T'Pol's told you by now that I mean to free Vulcan from the ties which bind your people to the Empire."

"Why?" said Soval.

"Unlike Humans, who are the very flower of civilization, your people are assholes, Soval," said Trip with a smile, trying to make light of it all.

"You say that without the slightest trace of irony, Captain," said Soval. "You really do have the makings of a politician."

Trip laughed at that, and said, "Well said, Soval. I know Humans aren't much better, but I mean to break them of that, when I take the crown. It's not just that I want to do so, though I do, as much as I have to, Soval: the Empire is on the brink of collapse due to its structural deficiencies, and those deficiencies have to be eliminated."

"And we are among the deficiencies you mean to eliminate in order to save the Empire," said Soval.

Tactfully, Trip remained silent.

"I see," said Soval. "So in the process of eliminating these deficiencies you mean to discard the Vulcans, and retain the Andorians. May I ask why?"

"The Andorians hold what little honor is left in our Empire," said Trip, then held his hand up when Soval was about to speak. "I'm not blind to their flaws, Soval, it's just that the good in them outweighs the bad, meaning that they're still an asset in my venture, and I'll need every asset on my side, in order to turn this ship around as I fully intend to do."

"May I ask what you find so objectionable about Vulcans, in comparison to the Andorians?" said Soval. "Precisely what makes one an undesirable, and the other desirable, in your eyes, Captain."

"Whether it's a matter of evolution, or conditioning, or both, Soval," said Trip, "you Vulcans are much more troublesome than the Andorians. You protest more often, you rebel more often, you whine more often, and lastly you seek to extort concessions from the Empire, in times when the Empire is under duress. Frankly, I don't need the hassles. Contrast that to the Andorians. They protest lawfully at first to air their grievances, and even rebel at times though nowhere as often as your kind, but when the Klingons sought to use Andoria's grievances against the Empire as a means to break us apart, the Andorians hacked the Klingon diplomats in a dozen pieces each and sent them home in a box, then put aside their quarrel with us, in order to defend the Empire, and they won respect from us Humans in the process."

Soval nodded, and silently agreed with Captain Tucker's assessment of both Vulcans, and Andorians. Still...

"What would Vulcans have to do in order to change your mind about us, Captain?" said Soval.

Trip sighed, and said, "I don't know that there's anything you can do, Soval. I think it's time that Vulcan went it alone, to sink or swim. Your people will learn something from the experience, either way."

"You are no fool, Captain," said Soval. "You know what happens to my people when others hear of our political divide."

"Fire tempers a man's soul, Soval," said Trip. "Perhaps it will temper your entire people, eventually for the better."

"There must be an alternative, Captain," said Soval. "There must be something..."

"If your people truly wished to remain in the Empire," said Trip, "I would require their ultimate commitment, and they would have to fall in line while I reform the Empire, Soval. Should they falter and stumble, and fall back to their old ways, I would become the fire which tempers Vulcan. That's not a threat, Soval: just a fact and a promise."

* * *

The Empress sighed, and waited impatiently for her latest visitor to make way to her rooms, where she sat, surrounded by a half dozen politicians and twice as many StarFleet Admirals, as well as two MACO generals. Finally, the woman made her way to the Empress' side.

"What took you so long?" growled the Empress.

"I apologize, your Majesty," said the doctor. "The elevators were malfunctioning and I had to take the stairs."

The medic administered an analgesic and then a stimulant to the Empress, and then one or the other, or both, to most of the other men present. They'd been at this all night, planning their defensive campaign against the madman who'd grabbed hold of the Defiant from the Empress, and promised to come back and destroy Earth, from what the Empress had said. The Empress' life had hung by a string at that point in time, as she no longer had the Defiant to enforce her will upon the Earth, but she'd convinced them all that she, and she alone, knew this lunatic Tucker well enough to defeat him upon his return, so the Empress kept her head and her crown, for now. Her fate would be determined upon the Defiant's return.

"Now," said the Empress, somewhat reinvigorated, "let's have a summation, Admiral Garland."

"Yes, Majesty," said Garland. "We've stripped our borders all along the Empire of every ship we could spare, and by the time they all arrive to our quadrant we'll have just over two hundred ships. I hope we don't regret that decision, Majesty."

"Life is full of regrets, Admiral," said Hoshi. "We will deal with our madman as expeditiously as possible, and then we'll send those ships back to their stations as soon as possible."

"Yes, Majesty," said Gardner. "Do we have any idea when the Defiant will return?"

"Soon," said the Empress, and Commander Mayweather, seated next to the Empress Sato, gave Gardner a hard look for questioning the Empress' decisions in handling her fleet.

* * *

Soval was taking tea with T'Pol in her quarters when the door's chime sounded. T'Pol opened the door to find a female ensign named Teo standing there, and the Vulcan raised brow at her.

"Would you and Soval please follow me, sir," said Teo.

T'Pol looked at Soval, and the two Vulcans trailed the ensign through the ship, eventually ending up in the Shuttle Bay.

No, no, no! thought T'Pol, for she needed more time to work her will with Captain Tucker. Speaking of the devil, the man come round the shuttle to smile at them both and T'Pol knew he meant to rid himself of her right now.

"She's fit as a fiddle," said Trip, running his hand along the shuttle's hull, and T'Pol noted that the captain had acquired a piece of jewelry around his wrist, some kind of gray mesh bracelet: it was restrained enough in color and shine to seem appropriate for a man of his rank, so T'Pol moved on, looking back at the captain. "All systems are go, and she yearning to stretch her legs."

"We're still three days from Vulcan, Captain," said T'Pol. "For safety's sake perhaps you'd be so kind as to drop us off on Vulcan."

"You're safe enough, T'Pol," said Trip. "We're well inside Vulcan space even now, and though I doubt you'll have any trouble, help is only hours away for you now. It's time for you to leave my ship."

Soval realized the man's mind was resolved to move them along now, and he said, "I will inform my people of the changes which have taken place on Earth, for those still unaware, and the changes which are headed our way. There must be a safe course through these shoals for all our people, Captain, and I hope that I can speak with you again in order to persuade you to change your mind about Vulcan."

"You are always welcome here, Soval," said Trip, nodding to the older Vulcan, and then turned his attention to T'Pol. "You however are not, T'Pol. Don't come back here, or you'll pay a price. You want to serve - serve on a Vulcan ship. You understand me?"

"I hear your words," said T'Pol, poised and aloof, "yet I still do not know what I have done to earn such enmity from you, Captain. If you can find it in yourself to forgive Soval's actions, why not mine?"

Trip almost laughed aloud at that, and said, "So, no. You hear my words, but don't understand, as usual. Safe trip, T'Pol. Just don't forget my warning."

T'Pol would have continued arguing for a delay of this departure, but Soval spoke a few more words with the captain and then entered the ship, and T'Pol reluctantly followed the elder Vulcan. Five minutes later, the shuttle left the Defiant.

* * *

The Empress rode Commander Mayweather with a single minded intensity, and though the man was clearly benefiting from her attentions, and enjoying himself in the process, the Empress pursued this course merely for the sake of release - she'd been so dreadfully tense since the day that Commander Tucker had stolen her ship and departed the Sol system, and the tension had only increased with each day since then, for there was no doubt the man meant to strip everything else from her eventually.

She could just order a fast ship loaded with precious metals, and those metals, along with the data she'd retained from the Defiant were certain to make her wealthy beyond compare. She was also certain that Commander Mayweather would follow her anywhere. They could easily make their way to Risa, or Regulus, and live the rest of their lives in absolute comfort… But then the Empress had tasted real power, and a long and comfortable life no longer seemed as important to her as it once might have. No, she'd make her stand here, live or die.

She was not blind to the facts at hand. Despite outnumbering the Defiant two hundred to one, victory was nowhere near certain for her. Captain Tucker could weave and dance quite successfully given his ship's greater speed, more powerful shields and weapons: kill two or three of her ships, then warp away, only to repeat the process later, and then again, and again, and again. A moving battle over the course of days, or weeks, would work in his favor. Her job was to stifle his tactics, and smother the Defiant with sheer numbers. The question was how.

* * *

Despite the generally disagreeable manner in which Commander Tucker had taken command of the Defiant to become it's captain, the crew had fallen into a comfortable groove where the man was concerned. Unlike a great many of the superior officers these crewmen had met since joining the fleet, Captain Tucker was remarkably easy to serve. Generally firm, occasionally easy going, he displayed none of the capricious nature which caused crewmen to fear, and often hate, their superior officers, and that realization was the beginning of good morale aboard the ship.

The Defiant still made way for Andoria, had five more days to go, and Trip spent most of that time in divided pursuits, studying Andorian culture and customs, diving still deeper in the pile of data he'd acquired from the first captain's data partition, trying to unearth more things about the items in the Holding Locker, and learning more about his ship through the use of his diagnostic bracelet.

Studying Andorian customs and culture was done just for the joy of learning. Digging deeper into his secret data files was also a joy, but a joy with practical applications. His research into the items in the Holding Locker left Trip entirely certain that he had at least two psionic artifacts there, perhaps more. Not that they'd do him any good, since his research made it clear that one had to have some inborn psychic talent in order to make use them, but perhaps they'd prove useful eventually in some capacity.

As for the diagnostic bracelet, that was also a joy, though it also had numerous practical benefits as well, and it was frustrating that the bracelet was still largely beyond his ken. Yes, it was clear that the mesh pattern served as both an antenna and a transmitter, and though it had no visible power source, Trip suspected that it simply drew power from any power source that came within it's range. So far so good, but it lacked a computer's CPU, unless the entire bracelet was a CPU. That was likely, but it was beyond his ability to replicate. Still, the technology had many applications, and he hoped that in time, his research would uncover the entire nature of this little device.

Eventually though, Trip ran out of time, and his Helm officer notified Trip of that fact with just four words: 'We've reached Andoria, Captain.'


	9. Chapter 9

— **Chapter 09—**

Trip stepped onto the Bridge of the Defiant to find that a view of Andoria was already displayed on the large Bridge video monitor. It was a stunning view too, as Andoria was actually a large moon, orbiting a much, much larger gas giant, and the contrast between those two objects was quite dramatic. Almost as dramatic were the ten Andorian battlecruisers standing between the Defiant and Andoria.

Trip looked at Lee, his Tactical officer.

"Their shields are powered," said Lee. "Their weapons are not."

Trip nodded. So, the Andorians were being polite. He and took the captain's chair, and brought his bracelet in contact with the armrest of his captain's chair. In case of trouble he could bring shields and weapons up faster than he could give the order to do so. He was about to order the Comm officer to contact the Andorians, but the Andorians beat him to the punch.

"We're being hailed, Captain," said Comm.

Trip made a slight gesture to the Comm officer, and the image on the Bridge monitor changed to that of an Andorian battlecruiser's Bridge, and centered in that image was an Andorian admiral.

"Greetings, Admiral," said Trip.

"Greetings, Captain Tucker," said the Andorian, taking the measure of the human captain with a glance. "I am Idilen."

"Idilen. I've heard of your courage and your skill, Admiral," said Trip, truthfully. "Your battlegroup was the first to breach the Klingon lines, during their encroachment of our territory, what, three years ago?"

"Three and a half," said Idilen, proud that his battlegroup's action was remembered. "Yes, we smashed those ill mannered curs that day and sent them scurrying back to their territory like beaten dogs."

Trip laughed on noting how the Andorian's face lit up on remembering that day.

"So what brings you here, Captain Tucker?"

"Since you know my name, Admiral," said Trip, "I presume you've heard of me, and of the minor indiscretions I've committed in the past few days."

Idilen laughed at that, and said, "Minor indiscretions. I like that, Captain. Yes, the entire Empire has heard by now that you've absconded with the Empress' amazing new toy, then promised to return and strip her of the crown. Did I miss anything?"

"No," said Trip. "That's about the sum of my indiscretions for now, Admiral, but I expect to add to that list, in due time."

"I hope you do not plan to do so here, Captain," said Idilen.

"I do not, Admiral."

"So why are you here, Captain Tucker?"

Trip was about to answer, then had a thought.

"Would you like to join me for a drink aboard the Defiant, Admiral?" said Trip.

"It's been a long time since I've had a shot of bourbon, Captain," said Idilen, after a moment's thought.

"And I'd love a taste of Andorian ale," said Trip, "if you can spare a bottle, Admiral."

"I'll bring ten cases with me," said Idilen.

"Much obliged, Admiral," said Trip.

"My shuttle will dock with the Defiant in a few minutes, Captain."

"Until then, Admiral," said Trip, and signaled that the Comm officer should sever the connection.

"Scan that shuttle on the way in," said Trip, looking at Lee, who was manning Tactical. "Make sure they're not smuggling a nuke aboard that shuttle as a present for us all."

Lee nodded, and Trip reached out to Chef.

"Yes, Captain," said Chef.

"We're about to have some Andorian guests, Chef," said Trip. "Do we have any bourbon in stock?"

"Lots," said Chef. "Almost two hundred cases, all good quality."

"See that you have ten cases of bourbon delivered to the Andorian shuttle when they land, please," said Trip. "Have your man load the boxes into the shuttle, and remove the ten cases of Andorian ale which I expect he'll find in the Andorian shuttle."

"Will do, Captain," said Chef. "Anything else? Some food for our guests?"

"I'll let you know, Chef," said Trip. "Thank you."

"Certainly, Captain."

Trip thought a moment longer, then made a public announcement: "We're about to host an Andorian Admiral aboard this ship," said Trip. "Be polite, people."

Five more minutes passed, then Lee looked up at Trip and said, "They're on the way. Four Andorian life signs, Captain. No energy weapons at all, though they'll have their ushaan-tor."

Trip nodded, well aware of that fact. Every Andorian soldier had traditionally been enlisted as an Imperial Guard, but when Andoria had been subsumed into the Terran Empire, their Emperor had been demoted slightly as it were and took a different title, his standing barely diminished, and the Imperial Guards became known as Andorian Guards, but the Terran Emperor of the time, Elross, had valued the Andorians too much to humiliate them even in his victory, and so he left most of their martial institutions intact, if slightly modified in form. The habit of the former Imperial Guards to carry the ushaan-tor, a hand held Andorian axe head/miner's tool was one of the habits which carried over to the Andorian Guards.

Trip made his way to the Shuttle Bay to greet the admiral in person, and got there just as the admiral exited the shuttle with a bottle of Andorian ale in his left hand, and flanked by two serious looking bodyguards, while the pilot remained at his station in the pilot's chair.

Idilen noted that the Human captain was there to greet him personally, and the sign of respect was appreciated, if unexpected. Curiously, the Human was not accompanied by any guards.

Idilen swiveled his head towards his men, and said, "Wait here."

The two Andorians gave a slight bow of the head, their faces neutral, though Idilen knew them well enough to know they were not pleased with their orders. Tough.

Trip gripped forearms with the admiral in the Andorian manner when they met, and then led the way deeper into the Defiant. He guided the admiral to the officer's lounge, which was small, but fairly luxurious for a starship, with a clean, modern design, which suited Andorian aesthetic sensibilities quite well. A few of the Defiant's officers were enjoying themselves when Trip and the admiral entered the lounge, and they politely stood and formally saluted their captain and his guest, before Trip nodded, giving permission that they should return to their own amusement.

"A booth, a chair, or a barstool, Admiral?" said Trip.

"A booth, I think, Captain," said Idilen, and followed the Captain to a U-shaped booth, where the admiral took one side of the booth, the captain another.

The bartender stepped up, and offered drinks.

"Two glasses and a bottle of bourbon," said Trip, and Idilen made to give his bottle of Andorian ale to the bartender.

"Actually," said Trip, "I was hoping the ale was for me, Admiral."

"I assume you'll want to have it sampled for toxins," said Idilen.

"The man I'm looking at has no need to rely on poison if he wants me dead," said Trip, and Idilen inclined his head to acknowledge the compliment.

Moments later the bartender returned with two lowball glasses and a bottle of bourbon. Trip dismissed him, and poured bourbon for the admiral, while the Andorian reciprocated by pouring Trip's Andorian ale.

"My chef would be pleased to cook for you, Admiral," said Trip.

"I could go for something sweet," said Idilen. "I'm ashamed to say that I have something of a sweet tooth."

Trip smiled: perhaps he and Idilen were distantly related. He pressed the button on the comm console built into the table a rang the kitchen.

"Something sweet for two, Chef," said Trip.

"Yes, Captain," said Chef.

The two men looked across the table as they sipped their drinks, then Idilen said, "So what brings you to Andoria, Captain?"

"I came to pay my respects to the Zhael," said Trip, "and ask a favor of him. If he does not wish to be seen with me presently, which is understandable given the present tension between the Empress and I, perhaps he will simply grant my request in the assurance that I will return the favor in the future, should I ascend to the throne."

Zhael was the former Andorian Emperor's new title, one he took up once Andoria was defeated by Earth's space faring fleet, and assimilated into the Terran Empire. Zhael meant Honor's Heart, and to an Andorian it was no step down from Emperor to Zhael.

The Admiral considered the Human's words, then said, "May I ask what favor you seek from the Zhael?"

Trip explained the nature of his request in a concise manner, and then the admiral said, "Interesting. I can not speak for the Zhael, but I imagine your request will be granted, Captain, and I will add my recommendation to your request. As for the rest, I will communicate with the Zhael as soon as we're finished here."

"Certainly," said Trip, tipping back the last of his Andorian ale, which was soon replenished by the admiral.

"As you might imagine, there's a great deal of interest on Andoria over the outcome of the contest in which you and the Empress will one day soon engage, Captain," said Idilen, after downing the contents of his glass. "I am surprised the Empress did not try to buy you off in order to regain control of this ship."

Trip refilled the Andorian's now empty glass, and said, "To achieve my aims I require the throne, Admiral. Mere wealth will not give me the power to reform the Empire."

"Reform, you say, Captain," said Idilen. "I do not believe I have ever met a Human that believed that the Empire needed reformation."

"It's my nature, Admiral," said Trip. "I'm an engineer, so I'm used to figuring out how things work, tearing them apart and then rebuilding them, hopefully better than before, and it's my opinion that the Empire stands in need of a man of my talents."

"It does indeed," said Idilen, and seemed about to say more, but Chef approached their table a tray in his hands.

"What is this?" said Trip after the man had served the Andorian and then his admiral.

"A rum soaked, chocolate and cinnamon babka, with a big scoop of vanilla ice cream," said Chef.

"It's quite tasty, Chef," said Idilen after a sample. "Very good. Thank you."

Chef nodded, and said, "If you'd like something else, let me know."

Trip nodded, and Chef made his exit, which freed Trip up to divide his attention between the admiral and his treat.

"As you were saying, Admiral…"

"Yes, I agree, the Empire is in need of some proper attention," said Idilen. "And you think that you are the man for the task?"

"I do," said Trip.

"May I ask you where you will begin to reform the Empire?" said Idilen. "Have you had a chance to give thought to that matter, or do you mean to win the crown, and then turn your attention to that task?"

"The work will be endless, but for a start we need to eliminate the corruption, which is endemic," said Trip. "You've got Human regional governors and judges selling their influence to the highest bidder, and that's when they're not robbing the local populace blind, or abusing the locals. I'm sure it's happened with those you've dealt with here as well, Admiral, and having these people in place, essentially as occupiers, does nothing but generate ill will, all across the Empire. I propose we eliminate these people from the equation, and allow each region to govern itself, so long as it does so responsibly. In provinces which can not govern themselves for whatever reason, Imperial representatives will take a hand in bringing the region up to standards, but an aggressive cadre of corruption investigators will keep them in check, with public trials and executions for the worst offenders, and something fitting for lessor offenders."

Idilen shook his head in agreement. It was true, the Imperial governors and their assorted leeches were despised on Andoria, and he imagined that such feelings predominated everywhere.

"We need to tackle the management of our fleets as well," said Trip, "and empower peoples such as yours, who have proven their loyalty in difficult times, so that rank and experience, rather than political connections, rule the day."

Idilen breath caught at that. It had long been a sore point in Andorian/Human relations, that Andoria was taxed and expected to donate soldiers and ships to the Empire's campaigns, yet had no say in the workings of the Imperial Fleet - Andorian officers with decades of experience were sometimes overruled by junior Human officers with negligible experience, often with disastrous consequences, for someone was always testing the borders of the Empire. It was true that such fools were soon after executed, but that did not atone for the losses they caused amongst the Andorian fleet.

"Our laws also need to be standardized, and applied equally all across the Empire, no matter the species involved," said Trip. "Essentially, I mean to enfranchise everyone living within the borders of the Empire, and eliminate the caste system currently in place, a system which turns species against species in return for a chance to rise above the others."

So interested in the man's words, had Idilen been, that he'd forgotten his dessert, but as the Human fell silent, Idilen began eating once more, his mind racing. Even just the changes mentioned so far would indeed strengthen the Empire immeasurably, and the man could do much more in time, if he was truly sincere.

Trip pushed aside his shallow bowl, dessert gone, and refilled the admiral's glass, silently studying the Andorian.

"I must tell you, Admiral," said Trip, "that although I hold your people in high esteem, I will not show weakness or spare your rebels, once I take the crown, so you will bring them to heel, or I will do so myself, and punish Andoria in the process for making me tidy up its mess."

"They will be dealt with, never fear, Captain," said Idilen. "If you should take the crown and begin making changes for the better, that alone would eliminate their cause to war, and we will eliminate the remaining holdouts, assuming you can push the changes you've just brought up with me through the system."

"Good," said Trip.

"If the Zhael grants your favor, where do you go from here?" said Idilen. "Back to Earth in order to try for the crown immediately?"

"No," said Trip. "The Empress needs more time to gather her forces."

"Which will make your task more difficult…" said Idilen.

"And my victory complete," said Trip.

Idilen nodded, understanding the principle. The Human was willing to face greater odds in his bid for the crown, but in return, he would defeat and demoralize his opponent completely and quickly in one brief battle or campaign, rather than killing them piecemeal and dragging the entire affair out for years. Yes, any resistance to his ascension to the crown would die along with the hopes of the defeated… if he won, that is. Was that even possible, given the odds he faced? What were this strange new ship's true abilities?

"It has been a pleasure meeting you, Captain," said Idilen, "but I am certain that the Zhael waits impatiently for word from me. I will take my shuttle to the surface in order to speak with him, then contact you again as soon as practical, if he grants your favor."

Trip nodded, and walked the admiral back to his shuttle, then headed for his Ready Room.

* * *

At the time that Captain Tucker had just begun his meeting with Admiral Idilen, Soval and T'Pol had just concluded a six hour meeting with the High Command, the ruling council of Vulcan, and were given a two hour break before the hearings were scheduled to resume. Both Vulcans had been occupied in this manner for the past two days, since arriving on Vulcan, questioned for twelve hours a day, often together, sometimes separately, of the events which had taken place since the former Captain Archer first initiated this hunt for this strange ship from the future, or another timeline, or both.

As a former diplomat with a great deal of experience in exo-politics and one fully versed in the Human mindset, Soval's views were of primary interest, but T'Pol's longer period of association with the present captain of the Defiant, Charles Tucker, also carried great weight for she was counted upon to help predict his response to the various initiatives which the High Command might choose to follow.

"Well, we have two hours to call our own, Soval," said T'Pol. "What do you suggest?"

"Some tea," said Soval.

"Agreed," said T'Pol, and five minutes later they were seated on the shaded patio of a nearby teahouse, the 98 degree heat which most Humans would find oppressive, well within the Vulcan comfort range.

They took a few moments to select a pot of tea acceptable to them both, as well as ordering a snack, and then they fell silent for a bit, savoring the peace, but once the tea and food arrived they both perked up a bit.

"The Defiant will have reached Andoria by now," said T'Pol.

"Yes," said Soval, "and I would dearly like to know what Captain Tucker is doing out there. I wish he had not put us off his ship."

T'Pol nodded, and said, "It was my fault, Soval. I tried to anticipate the captain's underhanded maneuver, and made it my business to sabotage both shuttles the day before, so that they would not operate. My work was well done, and subtle, so that the engineers would be unable to discover my handiwork and to repair the shuttles in time, thus forcing Captain Tucker to take us with him - I would like to know who discovered my sabotage, and ask him what gave it away."

Soval knew that T'Pol had served time in the V'Shar, the Vulcan Security Directorate, before joining the Imperial Fleet, so she most certainly should have been able to sabotage those shuttles properly, yet he was supportive of her even in failure.

"Well," said Soval, pouring tea for him and T'Pol both, in the no-handle 4oz clay teacups common to Vulcan, "Captain Tucker is a skilled engineer, his people are talented, so between them all, they are apparently better engineers than you a saboteur, T'Pol. Do not worry over what is already gone."

T'Pol nodded agreeably with Soval's assessment, and took up one of the two large food bowls they'd ordered. She looked into the bowl, and licked her lips. A bowl of flat egg-noodles drizzled with a butter sauce, generously topped with the meat of the latek, a Vulcan snake whose fluffy white meat could easily be mistaken for Earth's chicken, save that its muscle fibers were not so tightly packed, which was actually a plus in cooking, as it allowed the meat to soak up any sauces drizzled over it. Three types of stir fried vegetables crowded the bowl in addition to the meat and two deep fried chickpea patties, all topped with three types of sauce liberally drizzled atop the meat and vegetables. T'Pol mixed all the toppings with the noodles, and without further preamble she tucked into her bowl. Soval watched her eat for a bit, amused by T'Pol's gusto for the food, then followed her lead.

Once their noodle bowls were emptied, and the bowls and utensils removed and replaced with small bowls of mango ice cream, T'Pol said, "What course do you think the High Command will choose to follow once Captain Tucker becomes Emperor?"

"I do not know, T'Pol, but you seem certain that the man will prevail over the Empress and her forces," said Soval. "Why?"

"Gut feeling," said T'Pol.

"I feel the same," said Soval.

"What will you do once these hearings are over, and Vulcan's course decided?" said T'Pol.

"In either case," said Soval, "I plan to return to the Defiant and stick to Captain Tucker like glue. If the High Command chooses separation, I will endeavor to keep our relations with the Terran Empire cordial, and as close as possible. If the High Command chooses integration, I will aim to help our people do so as efficiently as possible."

"I will accompany you," said T'Pol.

"That course would be ill advised, T'Pol," said Soval. "I heard Captain Tucker's words to you before we left his ship, and I do not believe that he would welcome you back with open arms."

"When you leave for the Defiant, I will accompany you, Soval."

"T'Pol, I fear you'd be imprisoned in the Brig this time, your only forays outside the Brig being a daily trip to the Agony Booth," said Soval, still amazed that one of Archer's first priorities upon taking the Defiant from Forrest, was having Engineering build an Agony Booth aboard his new ship. "At the very least the man means to make you suffer, at worst he may well kill you."

"Cheer up, Soval," said T'Pol. "Pain and misery are states of mind, and I assure you, Captain Tucker will not kill me."

Soval sipped tea, and wondered how to change T'Pol's mind: he was too fond of her to see her put through the grinder without purpose.

"There are other ways to serve your people, or the Empire, T'Pol," said Soval eventually. "Why are you so determined to go back to the Defiant?"

T'Pol had no answers for Soval, lost now in her own thoughts.


	10. Chapter 10

— **Chapter 10—**

After killing an hour or so shuffling papers in his Ready Room while waiting to hear back from Idilen, Trip stopped by Engineering in order to verify that all was well, and it was. His next stop was Sick Bay, where Phlox had left a note on the door - he'd stepped out for coffee, he would return in a few minutes. Trip decided to wait inside, and to his surprise he found that the partition Phlox had used to sequester Lt. Reed was gone, and the man was conscious. Trip approached the man's bedside, noting the considerable improvements in the radiologically induced scars which marked Lt. Reeds face. Given that it had only been a few days since the last time he'd seen Reed, the improvement was startling.

Lt. Reed watched Trip approach his bedside, then he said, "Captain."

"You look good, Lt. Reed," said Trip.

"Thanks," said Lt. Reed. "Phlox told me that the Gorn's explosive device included a small amount of radioactive matter which essentially poisoned me, but he tells me to expect a full recovery."

"That's good," said Trip, admiring the way that Phlox had covered his own ass for dosing Reed with radiation.

"I understand you're the ship's captain, now," said Reed.

"Yeah," said Trip. "I rigged a dead man's trigger to keep the crew in line, and it's still running. Before trying to disarm that trigger, I'd suggest you remember that I'm a tricky bastard. You'll only get once chance to beat me."

"I have no intention of doing that," said Reed. "I've missed quite a lot around here, but I hope you'll let bygones be bygones, Captain. I know we've had our differences but that's part and parcel of the lives we lead."

Trip nodded and said, "I'll give you a chance to prove yourself if you're sure you mean it, Lt. Reed."

"I do, Captain," said Reed.

Just then Phlox entered Sick Bay with two iced coffees in hand, and gave one of the go-cups to Lt. Reed.

"Ah, Captain," said Phlox, "I take it you noticed the improvements in Lt. Reed's condition."

"I did, Doctor," said Trip.

"The good news is that I made some definite breakthroughs in the treatment of radiological illnesses during my work with Lt. Reed," said Phlox, "which might carry over to you and your engineers. A happy coincidence. If you'd care to try, I suggest we begin treatments next week."

"Sure thing," said Trip, looking at Phlox. "How long until Lt. Reed can return to duty?"

"I'll clear him for light duty in three days," said Phlox. "He'll be back to normal in ten days, though his scabs will take a bit longer to vanish, say a month or so."

Trip nodded to Phlox, and Phlox smiled and wandered away from their bedside.

"Well," said Trip looking down at Reed, "get better fast. I have an assignment for you that's right up your alley."

"May I ask what that is?" said Reed, looking curiously at Trip.

"I don't mean to rub salt in your wounds," said Trip, "but your record indicates that you washed out of the MACO training program in what, your last week?"

"Two days before graduation," said Lt. Reed. "I attacked my squadron instructor, but the prick deserved it. What about it, Captain?"

"As I was looking at your record, it occurred to me that you have most of the skills of a MACO," said Trip.

"All of them, Captain," said Reed. "The last week is just a time to unwind as a reward for our hard work."

"Ah," said Trip, and Reed was now intrigued. "Well it occurred to me that we could use a well trained squad like that aboard the Defiant. What ten, twelve men?"

"Twelve will do better, Captain," said Reed, quite interested in the challenge implicit in the captain's offer.

"We're heading into some turbulent waters, Lt. Reed, but things will be settled soon enough," said Trip. "If you and your squad serve me adequately, I will promote you to Lt-Commander. Serve me exceptionally and I'll promote you to full Commander, and earmark you for further opportunities to advance your career. Try to screw me over, and I'll bury you."

"Understood, Captain," said Reed.

"Review our personnel files at your leisure, and pick out your people, Lt. Reed," said Trip.

"Aye, sir," said Lt. Reed, then Trip spun round to leave Sick Bay with an abbreviated wave for Phlox.

* * *

"The High Command thanks you both for your testimony," said V'Las, the Head Councilor of the High Command, as he looked down at T'Pol and Soval. "I am certain that we have all found it invaluable."

Soval gave a slight bow from the neck, and said, "Has the High Command decided on Vulcan's course of action at this critical time?"

"Not yet," said V'Las. "We are divided still. Eventually, we will have to come to an agreement, or an agreement will be forced on us, one way or another. As it stands, one of us wishes to back the Empress, two wish to bid for Vulcan freedom from the Terran Empire, one wishes to back Captain Tucker, while I believe we should make peace with our Romulan cousins, and join the Romulan Empire."

"When will the High Command announce its decision?" said Soval.

"When we reach agreement," said V'Las. "You and T'Pol may leave now, and rest assured that our gratitude to you both is genuine."

Minutes later Soval and T'Pol found themselves outside the grand building which housed the various chambers of the High Command, and Soval looked at T'Pol.

"What do you have planned for the rest of your day?" said Soval.

"My mother wishes to see me, and expects me to take up my old room in her house, now that the High Command is done with me," said T'Pol. "Join me to her house. She would like to meet you, Soval, of that I am certain."

"I do not wish to impose," said Soval diplomatically, as in truth, he did not want to get in between T'Pol and her mother: the two had a strained relationship, and he would rather avoid such a tense scene.

"Nonsense, Soval," said T'Pol, her voice inflexible. "You must come! At least have lunch with us."

Soval had his excuse prepared and was ready to deploy it, but T'Pol's eyes silently pleaded with him for that small indulgence, so Soval gave a slight smile, and said, "Of course, T'Pol."

* * *

The Empress was aggravated. This meeting had gone for hours now, and the entire time they'd been focused on killing the captain of the Defiant, while sparing the ship, or at least salvaging its technology in some measure, and then Ensign Halon suggested that they might bargain with Captain Tucker, and broker a power sharing agreement. The Empress had been moving round the table at the time Halon had offered that suggestion, and bid her to continue talking, but when the Empress passed behind the ensign, she drove her dagger into the base of the woman's skull, then twisted the blade.

Contemptuously pushing the ensign's head onto the table, the Empress looked round the entire room, and said, "We are not here to discuss compromises. We are here to plan for victory!"

* * *

Back in his Ready Room, Trip was too restless to read or work. He touched the comm unit mounted on his desk and surfed the data packets through the aid of the bracelet, seeing them go about their ordained course, occasionally listening in on the the official comm chatter between the various engineers spread about the ship in the course of their duty, and then he turned his attention to the computer core, which was the brain of this ship, as the engines were its heart. He communicated with the computer core in pure binary code, through the aid of the bracelet, and an idea occurred to him, quite suddenly.

The bracelet was a short range transmitter and receiver, and so it required that Trip bring the bracelet within six inches of the object he wanted to sample in order to complete the circle, and make the link between the two: but what if the ship's computer reached out to the bracelet instead, using the ship's comm system?

Trip called the Comm officer on the Bridge.

"Yes, Captain," said Ensign Hoskins.

"I'll be conducting some tests," said Trip. "The comm system will activate and transmit a short burst transmission, three times over. Ignore it. It's me."

"Yes, Captain," said Hoskins.

Trip touched the comm system on his desk, and rode the data cable connection to make contact with the computer core, and give the core an instruction. In obedience to its instructions, the computer core pulled up the wave pattern that represented the energy signature of the bracelet, and Trip gave the computer a simple instruction: initiate contact with this device, three times, five minutes apart. Initiate the first transmission in five minutes. The computer indicated acceptance of its instruction, and Trip removed his hand from the comm unit. He was now essentially blind, so far as the computer's actions.

Sure enough five minutes later, the computer initiated a transmission, and their connection was active once more. Trip severed the connection, and the second contact occurred five minutes later, then once more, five minutes after that. He should have considered this option before: he had no use for it now, but it was a useful function. Just as he was considering the proper application for this new utility, his Comm officer reached out to the ship's captain.

"I am receiving a transmission for you, Captain," said Hoskins, "from Andoria."

"Put it through," said Trip, and moments later, Idilen's image popped up on screen.

"My shuttle is about to lift off Andoria, for the Defiant," said Idilen. "The Zhael has seen fit to grant your favor."

"I'll see you shortly then?"

"On my way," said Idilen. "We'll dock with your Access Hatch."

It was ten minutes later that Idilen's shuttle docked with the Access Hatch, and the Admiral stepped out of the shuttle, roughly pushing a handcuffed prisoner before him. That the man was a prisoner was apparent from his torn and dirty prison uniform, though his identity was concealed by the burlap sack covering his head.

Trip stepped up to the prisoner, jerked off the sack, and smiled.

"Look at him, Admiral," said Trip. "Look at this magnificent blue bastard! He's my good luck charm. With him on my side, I can't lose."

Thy'lek Shran, former commander of the battlecruiser Kumari, blinked rapidly for a few moments, dazzled by the bright light. He was laughing though, as he'd recognized the voice of the man who had just spoken, and though one eye was just about swollen shut, and his face was bruised in several places, Shran smiled, because he sensed that his luck had just taken a turn for the better.


	11. Chapter 11

— **Chapter 11—**

On the fifth day after springing Shran free from the confines of the nameless prison in which the Andorian had found himself incarcerated, Trip made his way through the crew quarters on Deck E. He found Crewman Angela Trevor's quarters and pressed the chime, despite the fact that Trevor was on duty now, but than Trip wasn't here for her. A dozen more presses on the cabin's doorbell, and finally the door opened a crack, and a clearly hung over Shran groaned when he saw Captain Tucker.

"Open the door you bastard!" said Trip, pushing his way inside.

He laughed at Shran's alcohol induced discomfort: once Angela and Shran had sequestered themselves in her quarters, Trip had a crewman deliver one of the cases of Andorian ale which Admiral Idilen had brought aboard the Defiant: Shran had to get some things out of his system before he'd be worth a damn, but that time was now over.

The Andorian had made a connection with Crewman Trevor within minutes of Admiral Idilen's departure from the Defiant, as Trevor, who served in Ship's Operation's was on duty at the Access Hatch, and she'd instantly drawn Shran's attention. Shran regaled her with his patented look which blended chauvinism and amused mastery, a look only accented by his perverted grin.

"What's your name, my large breasted beauty?" was Shran's suave opening move, and Trevor gave Shran her name, intrigued by the Andorian's elan.

Trip snorted a laugh, and left the two of them to go about their business, after asking Trevor to show Shran to his assigned quarters.

"So, have you ever been with an Andorian?" was Shran's next gambit as the two of them rode the turbo-lift.

Trevor took in Shran's leer and twin antennas waving slowly in the wind, and she took it all in with a cool glance for a bit, then something clicked, and she finally said, "No. But ask me that question again in the morning."

Shran had laughed, and promised to do so. No one aboard the Defiant was certain exactly what sort of magic spell the wily Andorian had cast over Crewman Trevor, but the two had clearly developed something of a physical relationship in short order, and Trip facilitated the entire thing by notifying Trevor that she was off-duty for four days.

"Look at you, Shran," said Trip, looking at Shran through the partially open bathroom door as the Andorian splashed cold water on his face, and ran his antennas through the stream of water falling from the faucet. "You look like shit. I think Angela's going to kill you."

Shran laughed a weak laugh, which only lent credence to Trip's theory, then said, "A death at Crewman Trevor's hands would be worthy of an Andorian Guard, Captain! I haven't had sex like that since the day I ended up in prison."

"You mean with a woman," said Trip. "You've had sex like that in prison, but not with a woman, is what you meant to s—"

"Shut the fuck up!" said Shran, stepping into the cabin's main room, a cool, damp, washcloth draped between his antennas.

"Playtime's over, Shran," said Trip. "I gave you and Trevor four days, but I need your head in the game now."

"You got it," said Shran. "What's up?"

"Officer's meeting in one hour," said Trip. "Conference Room 1. Go back to your room, take a shower and get your ass in a uniform."

"Yes, Captain," said Shran.

Forty minutes later, Shran had showered and slipped into one of these strange new uniforms, and noted, to his pleasure, that a custom made ushaan-tor, with a custom made leather belt and sheath was part of his uniform. Human made, probably by Tucker, and well made at that, razor sharp and blessed with a beautiful temper line. A few minutes to adjust the sheath and play with the belt, and the ushaan-tor rested securely at the small of Shran's back, merely a flick of the wrist from resting in the Andorian's right hand. For the first time in eighteen months, Shran felt ready to take on the world.

* * *

Soval took careful inventory of his surroundings, still unsure how it had all happened, but he'd spent last few days at T'Les's house, a guest of mother and daughter. He was now comfortably ensconced on the back patio, beneath a cloth canopy, enjoying the morning breeze, the happy chirping of birds going about their day filling the garden with life.

"Here, Soval," said T'Les who had popped out to drop off a hot tea and a breakfast tray for the man.

"Thank you, T'Les," said Soval, and T'Les nodded back to Soval and smiled, then left him to his own devices.

Soval took stock of his food tray, quite satisfied. Vulcan breakfasts were simple, but satisfying. In this particular case, two pleasingly fire charred flatbreads topped with sesame seeds, three types of cheese, butter, two types of fruit jam, two hard boiled eggs, some spiced lamb imported from Earth, sliced tomatoes, some cucumber slices, a bit of raw onion, and of course, the tea. Perfect!

Soval had just begun eating, when T'Pol joined him on the patio, her own food tray similarly stacked with her breakfast choices.

"Good morning, Soval."

"T'Pol. How did you sleep?"

"Well enough," said T'Pol.

"Your mother is quite pleasant, T'Pol," said Soval. "It was kind of you two to host me the past couple of days."

"I am glad you find her pleasing, Soval," said T'Pol, "as I think she has developed something of a crush on you, quite understandably."

Soval, who had been about to thrust a piece of still warm buttered bread into his mouth, froze.

"What?"

"I said that she likes you, Soval," said T'Pol, looking at the older Vulcan speculatively, "and knowing her, I imagine that I will be calling you 'Father' in short order."

Silently, Soval thrust the bread into his mouth now, considering his feelings on the matter, but despite the weird and notably tense mother-daughter dynamic between T'Les and T'Pol, he found T'Les quite agreeable. He shrugged, essentially casting the future in the hands of fate.

"So what's on the agenda for today, Soval?"

"Well, first I need to find a suitable hotel room, and—" said Soval.

"Did you not hear my words, Soval?" said T'Pol. "I have just told you that my mother means to have you for her own, and I tell you that you would have an easier time freeing your foot from a sehlat trap, than the grasp of her precisely manicured fingernails."

"Well that still doesn't prevent me from taking rooms close by—" said Soval.

"Fine," said T'Pol, "try to leave, Soval, and see that your fate is sealed. Now, what else?"

"First thing I woke, I reached out to one of my contacts in the Vulcan Navy," said Soval, "in order to learn of the Defiant. His ship just returned from Andoria."

T'Pol understood. Although Vulcans and Andorians were not the best of friends, they were still part of the Terran Empire, and so Vulcan ships, both merchant and Navy, called on Andoria regularly, and vice versa.

"And?"

"Our good captain paid visit to Andoria in order to free a prisoner, and speak with the Zhael," said Soval. "He got his prisoner, but had no time to meet the Zhael for an extended period, as five of the Empress' patrol ships were spotted on course for Andoria, and word quickly passed along to the Zhael. Not wishing to put the Andorian in a difficult spot, Captain Tucker made a speedy departure from Andoria, along with the Zhael's personal dagger given as a gift for his tact. The Lerak, my contact's ship, tried to contact the Defiant before it left Andorian orbit, but the transmission was not acknowledged."

T'Pol was puzzled. She had no idea what Captain Tucker might want with an Andorian prisoner, and his departure raised other questions.

"What course did he take when departing Andoria?" said T'Pol.

"Directly into the Green Belt," said Soval, meaning the wide swath of space controlled by the Orion Syndicate.

"What the hell is that man doing?" said T'Pol, more to herself than anything else, though she'd spoken aloud.

"I do not know," said Soval, "but I must arrange my passage for Andoria at least."

"Our passage," said T'Pol, fixing the elder Vulcan with a glance, and Soval nodded.

It took five days for Soval to find adequate transport to Andoria, and in that time something terrible had taken place. Two days after their conversation on the patio, T'Pol woke to find T'Les and Soval having tea in the kitchen. T'Les sported a look of smug self-satisfaction, while Soval had trouble meeting T'Pol's eyes, and a bit later when they all stood in order to go out for breakfast, T'Pol saw her mother briefly run her left hand across Sovals bottom. Soval noted T'Pol's look, and blushed strongly.

"Oh, no, no… Tell me you didn't, Soval," said T'Pol. "Why?"

"I left him no logical choice, T'Pol," said T'Les, her words almost a purr, and Soval nodded his agreement.

"Oh, Soval," said T'Pol, "what have you done… You are truly a fool!"

"Yes, I am," said Soval, a faint, but definitely impudent grin on his face, "but hot and crazy seems to run in your bloodline, T'Pol."

* * *

Trip looked round the conference table, taking in the Defiant's officer cadre. Lee for Security/Tactical, Reed for the newly created strike force, Phlox for Medical, Sanders, newly promoted to Chief Engineer was here for Engineering, Talbot for Ship's Operations, and so on, eleven department heads and their immediate aides, all waiting for Captain Tucker to start the meeting.

"I'll keep this short," said Trip. "Meet the ship's new XO, Shran. He's a skilled commander, and he understands fleet tactics as well as ship to ship combat. He's also an ill tempered prick, so try anything with him, and he'll use that blade at the small of his back to cleave your skull in two. But he's the best Executive Officer this ship could have for what we're facing."

The Human officers looked at Shran warily, recognizing the mark of an Andorian Guard on the mans' features, the cold eyes and the hard grin, and these things did nothing to soothe their unease.

"And what exactly are we facing, Captain?" said Lee. "We've all noticed that you took us into the Green Belt."

"We've got a good crew," said Trip, "but three out of every four crewmen are rookies who have never seen battle. That's about to change."

"The Orions," said Lt. Reed.

"Precisely," said Trip. "We're here to enable the crew to face the din of battle, bloody the enemy, perhaps even build some political goodwill along the way. By the time we leave the Green Belt, this crew will be ready for the next step."

"And what's that, Captain?" said Shran, grinning at the Human captain.

"We change the nature of the game," said Trip.

* * *

"Well?" said Captain Sulek of the Vulcan ship Tolek.

"My reports agree with yours," said the Andorian captain, Melonos, of the battlecruiser Suritha.

These two ships were surrounded by a dozen more of mixed origins, some Vulcan, some Andorian, even a few Tellarite, and these ships represented one of five battle groups available to the rebels fighting the Terran Empire. Such collaboration would never have occurred in earlier times, it was considered distasteful even now, but necessity forced them together… for now.

"So this Defiant headed into the Green Belt," said Tolek. "Why?"

"Only one way to find out," said Melonos.

What Melonos proposed was basically setting course after the Defiant and hopefully catching up to that Human ship, if she slowed or came to a stop, for they had no chance to do so during the four days the Defiant had set course into the Green Belt at best speed - they simply could not match the Defiant's top end speed.

"Agreed," said Tolek, and moments later, the entire battle group set course in pursuit of the Defiant.

* * *

Almost half of the ships which the Empress had recalled were now some 800,000 kilometers from the Earth, matching the planet's motion through space, and the sight of all those ships was heartening to the Empress as she took it all in from the deck of the Intrepid, the last of the NX class ships still in existence, at least until the four ships still in space dock were completed. And they would be the last of that class, as the Empress intended to kick off a whole new series of ships based on the Defiant, once her victory was complete.

Admiral Gardner noticed the Empress' contemplative survey of the assembled ships, and said, "Another three weeks before we're all assembled, but I suggest we begin running fleet tactics with what we have now. We can integrate newcomers into our formations as they show up."

The Empress nodded.

"We've mined the most likely vectors of approach for the Defiant, and placed NO-GO markers there for now," said Gardner. "We will remove them long before Tucker approaches the Sol system, and perhaps he'll get a rude surprise on his way in."

The Empress left the captain's chair to move slowly about the Bridge, as Gardner kept talking.

"Two of the rail cannons are in place and fully powered," said Gardner, speaking of the huge space based cannons which had been in construction for the past two years, each almost the size of the Defiant. Perhaps we'll get one more of the cannons up in time for our battle with the Defiant, but no more than that."

"Very good," said the Empress. "Carry on. I want these crews worked hard, Admiral. I will return in two weeks to determine your progress, and I had best be impressed."

"Yes, Majesty," said Gardner.


	12. Chapter 12

— **Chapter 12—**

"Ease up on your weapons fire!" said Shran, looking at Lee's lieutenant, who was manning the Tactical station at the moment. "Just enough to overload the shields, but not enough to cause the shipshell to implode!"

"Yes, sir," said Tactical, and Trip nodded approvingly at the way Shran the entire operation.

This was the fourth Orion ship the Defiant had located and attacked in the first two days since entering the Green Band, and Shran had commanded every attack as a means to get his feet wet again, and as a way to sate his hatred of the Orions.

Every Andorian seemingly despised the Orions to a degree which seemed pathological, until one realized that Andoria bordered the Green Band, and that Andorian ships, colonies and outposts had been preyed upon quite regularly by the Orions during Andoria's early days of space flight.

As payback for these predations, the Andorian Emperor of that time, named Brasidas, had given his Imperial Guards but one command: Eradicate the Orions.

The Imperial Guards had taken to their task with admirable zeal, making use of brutal tactics which they'd declined to use against the Vulcans even during their most bitter disputes. Orion colonies and strongholds were eradicated through the use of atomic bombardment from space, captured Orions were executed, regardless of age or gender, and soon enough the Orions learned to steer clear of Andorian space, and not long after that to flee from the Andorians as if fleeing from death itself, which in a way they were, but it was too late. Only another emperor could cancel out Brasidas' command, and none ever had, so even now, Andorian Guards hunted the Orions relentlessly, still in obedience to Brasidas' command given centuries ago.

"Shield are down, sir!" said the Tactical officer.

Shran looked at the Comm officer, and said, "Send in the boarding parties!"

"Yes, sir," said the Comm officer, and relayed Shran's command to the two boarding parties waiting by the transporter pad, one party headed and trained by Lt. Reed, and one party of ship's Security officers, headed by Lee.

Twenty minute later, it was all over.

"We have control of the ship, XO," said Lt. Reed from somewhere on the Orion ship, reporting to Shran. "One of Lee's men is badly wounded, but he'll make it. Two of mine will also spend a few weeks in Sick Bay, but they'll be all right. Seven light wounds of one sort or another. We have twenty-nine Orions, eighty-three captives of various species, a bunch of looted merchandise and a tidy sum of credits from the various ships they've robbed, along with some precious metals, jewelry, and a stash of second rate dilithium crystals, all with a decent market value."

"Find out if any of those captives are capable of manning a ship," said Shran.

"Already did, sir," said Reed. "They've got more than enough hands to man this ship."

Shran nodded, and said, "All right, same drill as before. Transport the valuables to the Defiant, execute the Orions and tell the captives to set course for Andoria. They'll be able to make their way to their respective homes from there."

"Aye, sir," said Reed, and severed his connection to the Defiant.

"You've still got it, Shran," said Trip.

"It's in my blood, Captain," said Shran, "but I appreciate being back in the swing of things once again."

"Speaking of which," said Trip, "what did you ever do to lose the Kumari and end up in prison?"

"Ask me over a bottle of ale," said Shran, turning a deeper blue. "In any case, how did you know enough about my situation to get me out?"

"The Kumari paid visit to Earth sixteen months ago," said Trip, "and naturally I reached out to you, in order to show you a good time. Imagine my surprise when the lovely Lt. Talas told me you were stripped of command and imprisoned on the orders of an Admiral Szlanso."

Shran nodded, and said, "How is Talas?"

"She was fine the last time I saw her," said Trip, and Shran seemed pleased by that. "Ok, XO, tie this thing off, bring our people back, and let's look for our next target. Make it a bigger target. The crew needs to feel some urgency."

"Aye, Captain," said Shran.

* * *

T'Les had accompanied Soval and her daughter to the nearest shuttle-depot, where the two had left the Defiant's shuttle a few weeks ago.

"You take care of my daughter, Soval," said T'Les fixing the older Vulcan with a steady glance.

"I will do what I can, T'Les," said Soval, "but I have already advised her against taking this course. Rather, I advised her to remain on Vulcan, but she refuses to heed my advice."

"I am well aware that she is as hard headed as they come, Soval," said T'Les. "I only ask that you try."

"Ummm… I'm right here, you two," said T'Pol. "Do you not see me? So do not talk about me as if I were not here."

T'Les smirked, and said, "Turn around, T'Pol."

Knowing what her mother intended, T'Pol turned, only to hear the intimate sounds of kissing, and she cringed inside. Poor Soval. T'Les would consume his soul, and leave an empty husk behind. On turning round though, it was clear to T'Pol that Soval either did not see the warning signs, or simply did not care, as the man was blushing a light shade of green. Another short round of goodbyes, then T'Pol and Soval left T'Les behind, as she watched lover and daughter depart for an uncertain fate.

"You will be glad we made our getaway as soon as we did," said T'Pol, as they walked for the Defiant's shuttle, the ship already visible, "but you can never return to Vulcan, Soval. Never, or she will have you!"

"Oh, stop being so melodramatic, T'Pol," said Soval. "T'Les is a perfectly lovely woman."

"If you say so, Soval."

"I do," said Soval, "and further more, how can you expect me to heed your warnings where T'Les is concerned, if you will not heed mine, where Captain Tucker is concerned?"

"That is a separate issue," said T'Pol. "I make my way to the Defiant in order to exert some measure of control over a member of an unstable species, Soval, and in doing so I intend to prevent him from causing more harm than necessary. Nothing more."

"Right," said Soval, chasing the word with a snort and a burst of laughter barely suppressed.

Within moments they reached the shuttle, and after a brief safety check, the shuttle lifted off in order to be neatly tucked up into the belly of the Andorian merchant ship, Keflij, in orbit now, and soon headed back to Andoria. Soval had bargained with the Andorian captain the previous day, and though the crew quarter's they'd share were sparse, they were adequate. For her part, T'Pol would have ridden in a barrel, if necessary, in order to get back to the Defiant - that fool man, Charles Tucker, needed her wisdom, needed her guidance, and no doubt needed her protection, given the way he pissed off everyone who crossed his path!

* * *

Back in the Holding Locker now, Trip breathed out in some measure of anxiety as he looked at the bit larger than fist sized blob of semi-glossy liquid metal which was contained by a glass jar. This jar had some notes scribbled on it from the original crew's Chief Engineer, or perhaps the Science officer. The note simply said: 'EV suit/Body Armor - thought controlled.' Hoping that whoever had scribbled that note was not the type to screw with people, Trip knelt on the floor, and poured out the blob from the jar.

The metallic-blue blob held it's shape somewhat, that is, it did not spread out across the floor as expected, nor did it react when he poked and prodded it with his pen. After taking a deep breath, Trip reached out to grab hold of the blob with his hands, intending to see if he could stretch it out. Instead, the moment the blob made contact with a living hand, it flowed up his arm and beneath his clothes, then covered his torso, then his legs, then the other arm, and lastly he felt a small thread of it run up his neck, and branch out, beneath his hair line, to cover the back and top of his head. He rubbed the back of his neck, but couldn't feel the thread of metal. He'd have to use a mirror in order to determine how visible it truly was.

He waited for a bit then, but though the liquid metal covered most of his body beneath his clothing, it was not truly and EV suit. Was it even body armor? Trip took his pen and pressed it against his forearm. He felt nothing. Mustering a bit more force, he poked his arm, and then jabbed at it full force. Still nothing. Hmmm… something to experiment with later, in order to determine the metals suitability as armor, though presumably the original engineer had already done so before affixing that label to it in the first place. Now, back to the EV suit.

Wait, thought Trip. The note said it was thought controlled. He thought, EV suit, and imagined himself in the normally bulky StarFleet EV suit, and nothing happened. On a hunch, he thought space, and imagined the vacuum, and the suit reacted. The metal flowed down his arms, covering his hands now, and flowed up from his torso, to cover his neck and head, the metal about the face pressed out in a smooth, clear bubble some three inches from his face. As T'Pol might say, 'Fascinating'.

Chastising himself for even briefly thinking of that Vulcan pain in the ass, Trip turned his attention back to the EV suit. His first panicked thought was removing the mask before he'd suffocate, but as soon as he thought of it, the bubble flowed back downward, freeing his face. Relieved, Trip willed the bubble back in place, intending to see how long his air supply would last in that bubble. Instead, his air supply never ran out, even after waiting two hours in the Holding Locker. He'd have to test this in the lab, make sure the suit was not just filtering and absorbing the air in the Holding Locker, because in that case he'd need a separate air supply, but he suspected that it might very well work in the vacuum of space as well, given that the Holding Locker was a repository for truly advanced technology.

Still, he had to get it out of this room in order to test the suit, and he couldn't be seen carrying a metallic-blue blob around in a jar, so he simply willed that the metal should cover his torso, though he noticed that he still felt the thin tread up the back of his neck, and the thin threads spread out over his skull, so apparently that part of it was not optional, probably having to do with the thought control aspect of the suit.

Hoping it wasn't too obvious, he headed directly for his quarters, where he spent the next twenty minutes studying himself closely, from different angles, and under different lighting conditions, and these threads were so thin, they were practically invisible, save under one condition. When he ran a low-powered laser beam used in one of his ranging/measuring tools across his head, the thin threads lit up an electric blue, but that was the least of his worries. In his whole life, no one had run a laser light across his head, and he imagined that if someone did, say by using a laser weapon, well in that case he'd have bigger problems to worry about, then explaining the lights in his hair.

* * *

"Report," said Trip, looking at Lee, who was manning the Tactical station.

"I've got fourteen Orion ships on sensors," said Lee. "They know we're coming, and they're jockeying for position, but they don't feel threatened enough to flee. Ten minutes to contact."

Trip nodded, and looked as Shran, noting the Andorian's grin and the hard look in his eyes. Ok, Shran was officially a lunatic where Orions were involved. Now to the matter at hand.

The Orions intended to capture the alien ship coming at them, and Trip would normally have agreed with their logic. Orions generally ran in heavily armed and armored merchant transports, given their need to transport their loot, and fourteen of them would be capable of taking out even a warship, but this was no contemporary warship, so these Orions were in more trouble than they imagined, and the fact that Shran had executed the Orions in their previous encounters meant that the Orions were unaware that a serious player was stalking them for a turn.

"Set Condition Red throughout the ship," said Trip to his Comm officer, though he could have done it faster using his bracelet, and the klaxons sounded in every part of the ship, and the band of lighting switched from the normal yellow-white to red, notifying every crewmember that battle was about to commence and directing them to their stations, while at the same time bringing up shields and powering weapons, as the Comm officer also stood ready to initiate a jamming protocol, should the Orions attempt to call for help, or notify their kind of the danger they now faced.

"Remember, Lee," said Trip. "Damage their engines, one at a time, and move on. Do not purposely destroy those ships. Our shields will take a pounding, so take your time and do it right."

Shran snorted at that, and Trip reviewed his words and sighed, then said, "Shut the fuck up, Shran, or I'll toss your ass in the Agony Booth after this is all over."

"Yes, Captain," said Shran, still smiling.

Sure enough, just under ten minutes later, the Defiant dropped into the midst of fourteen Orion ships, like a cat jumping into a flock of pigeons, only pigeons were smarter, and they'd have scattered. The Orions chose to stay, and fight for gain.

The nature of mechanized warfare means that advantages accrue as one progresses up the technology tree, and these Orions were outpaced on every front. A higher order of computing power meant that more variables could be tracked and predicted, and targeting solutions acquired on an instant by instant basis which made seconds seem an eternity, and these targeting solutions were passed along to the Human crew, who still insisted on manning the phaser cannon batteries even though the computer could have handled that more efficiently on its own initiative. Even so, the Humans fired their phaser cannon batteries to the precise locations where they'd do most harm, and these were much more powerful cannons to begin with, and in short order, three Orion ships were badly damaged, another eight crippled and in need of attention, and three took to their heels, warping out of the area at high warp, though not fast enough to avoid being pursued and caught by a much faster ship. At the end of a three day operation, some six hundred Orion captives were freed, some two hundred Orions executed, and a great deal of wealth made it's way into the Defiant's guarded and well monitored safe room, which was basically an entire section one deck above the Holding Locker.

* * *

Captain Sulek was in conversation with his Andorian counterpart, Captain Melonos, as the two shared command of this strike force, as Vulcan rebels would not take orders from an Andorian, or vice-versa.

"This is the fourth ship of freed Orion captives we have encountered," said Sulek. "All of them report the same thing. The Defiant incapacitates the Orion ships, then executes the Orions, freeing the captives. Admirable enough, but Tucker's actions are senseless."

Melonos nodded his agreement, and said, "Because killing Orions doesn't advance Tucker's goals. He should be fighting for the crown."

"So what do we do?" said Sulek. "Do we escort the slave ships to Andoria in order to ensure their safety?"

"No, we continue to track the Defiant, as we originally intended," said Melonos. "This Human interests me, and those ships with their freed captives are too close to Andorian space for the Orions to run the risk of pursuing them. You know how we treat that filth."

Sulek nodded, and said, "We are agreed than: we continue our search for the Defiant.


	13. Chapter 13

— **Chapter 13—**

Trip had just made it to Engineering for a look around, when the wall mounted comm unit sounded, and Phlox's voice was heard.

"Phlox to Captain Tucker."

Trip walked a few feet to the comm unit, and said, "Yes, Doctor."

"Come to Sick Bay, if circumstances allow," said Phlox. "Plan to spend two hours here."

Trip's heart danced a beat, and he said, "You mean…"

"Precisely, Captain," said Phlox. "See you soon."

Fifteen minutes later, Trip was entombed inside the doctor's resonance chamber, a coffin like contraption which served many functions.

"Now relax, Captain," said Phlox. "Try to sleep if you can."

"Wait, you're leaving me in here?" said Trip. "Don't you have to administer drugs, or chemical therapy, or something?"

"No, no," said Phlox. "This treatment is much more exciting, and works entirely through an energetic mechanism by manipulating the body hologram."

"Say what?" said Trip.

"Never mind, Captain Tucker," said Phlox. "Just relax and it will be over soon enough."

And Phlox was right. The two hours passed reasonably quickly, so much so that Trip suspected that he'd napped for a while, and then suddenly, the bunk slid out from the resonance machine. Trip squinted briefly to allow his eyes to adjust to the light of the Sick Bay, and then looked inquisitively at Phlox.

"That's it?" said Trip.

"Two more treatments, Captain," said Phlox, but you should see rapid improvements."

"A month?" said Trip.

"Probably sooner," said Phlox. "Remember, Lt. Reed was poisoned to a greater degree than you by 'the Gorn', so you should be ship shape in two weeks, three at most, though your scars will take longer, and may even require some measure of surgical intervention, but we won't know that for a fact until the treatment runs its course with you."

"Ok," said Trip, unwilling to believe it had all been this easy: better remain a pessimist for now, than be overly disappointed later.

"Schedule another treatment three days from now," said Phlox, "and then another treatment, three days after your second treatment."

"You got it," said Trip, feeling a hope which was perhaps not yet warranted, but he had no more time to ponder the issue at length, for his thoughts were interrupted.

"Captain to the Bridge," said the Defiant's Comm officer and Trip murmured a soft thanks for Phlox, and left for the Bridge.

* * *

"What's going on?" said Trip, looking at Shran as the Andorian slipped out of the captain's chair.

Shran gestured towards the large video monitor, which displayed a large Orion ship, well up-armored and armed, but nowhere near a match for the Defiant.

"Let's step on them, Captain," said Shran, but before Trip could give the order, the Comm officer spoke up.

"The Orions are hailing us," said Comm.

Trip looked at Shran, then nodded to his Comm officer. A moment later the Orion ship's captain was displayed on the Bridge monitor.

"Ah, Humans," said the Orion, wilting slightly under the intense scrutiny of Shran. "I thought so, but wasn't certain, given that your ship lacks the typical Terran Empire paint job. I am Tessar, captain of this ship."

Trip, said nothing, which seemed to annoy the Orion.

"So what are you doing out here, Captain," said the Orion, looking at Trip, still seated in the captain's chair. "And why are you approaching peaceful ships with your shields up and weapons hot? That is a provocative act around these parts."

"I could ask the same of you," said Trip.

"There have been a number of unexplained disappearances in this sector lately," said the Orion. "Now, what are you doing in this sector?"

"We're hunting Orions," said Trip, grinning openly at the Orion now.

"Why?" said the Orion.

"Truthfully? For practice," said Trip. "You should make a run for it now."

"We're just peaceful traders," said the Orion. "Hauling Risan rice to Regulus."

"Then you won't mind when a security team boards your ship to verify that fact, Captain," said Trip.

The Orion ship's shields and weapons were already powered, and a salvo of phase cannon fire raked the Defiant, to no effect. The Defiant's salvo was a bit more effective in that it brought down the Orions shields in the aft section, and then a second salvo ripped the back end from the ship.

"Idiot!" said Shran, looking at the Tactical officer on duty, as the Orion ship was now useless as a way for prospective captives to flee this region of space.

"Sorry, sir," said the lieutenant manning the station.

A few more discreet hits, and the Orion's weapons bays were history, while the crew and contents of the Bridge vented into space, along two bays which showed a heavy concentration of Orions: the Orions anticipated a boarding party and were setting an ambush.

"Send in the security teams," said Trip.

Forty minutes later, ship secured and throughly searched, Lt. Reed reached out to the Defiant.

"Reed to Bridge," said the lieutenant.

"Yes, Lieutenant," said Trip.

"You've got to see this, Captain," said Reed, panning his helmet cam round the room, to show not the usual assortment of frightened and traumatized captives to which they'd become accustomed, but rather a few dozen Orion slave girls.

It was well known that these women were nothing but a pain in the ass to deal with aboard a starship, given how strongly their pheromones affected most other species: males were driven to a frenzy of aggression in order to possess these women, while the female members of the crew were afflicted by nausea, headaches, vomiting and muscle aches which hindered their efficiency.

"Get out of there, now," said Trip, and after a last lingering look Lt. Reed and his men left the sweet scented room which beckoned them all to return.

Trip waited 'till the boarding party had exited the vicinity of the Orion slave girls, then said, "Did you clear out their treasury?"

"Yes," said Reed. "It's ready for transport to the Defiant now."

"All right," said Trip, knowing there was no point in any of the boarding party lying about it: during transport any valuables hidden about a man's person would stand out, and attempting to withhold such items would be severely punished.

"One last thing, Captain," said Reed, and snapped his fingers, and one of his men thrust a never before seen alien species in view of Reed's helmet cam.

The alien was an odd looking creature, humanoid in form, with the features of something like an old man, but not precisely so. And he was dressed in yellow robes with strange hieroglyphs running along the sleeves.

"What the fuck is he?" said Trip, looking at Shran: the Andorian shrugged.

"Can you understand his language?" said Trip, looking now at Reed.

"No, Captain," said Reed, "but our computer should be able to break that barrier soon enough."

That was true. Even the computing power of the old NX Enterprise could do that, and this computer was more advanced, so…

"Bring him back to the Defiant," said Trip. "I'll be waiting for you and him in Conference Room 1."

"Aye, sir," said Reed.

"You have the conn, XO," said Trip. "Let's find another target."

"What course, XO?" said the Helm officer, as Trip exited the Bridge.

"Wait," said Shran, then looked at Tactical. "Destroy that ship."

"Sir?" said Tactical. "There are a few dozen non-combatant females still onboard."

"They're Orions," said Shran, a snarl on his face, "and I gave you a direct order! I will not repeat myself."

Tactical noted Shran's approach, and knew that he would either obey the Andorian's command, or he'd be killed.

"Yes, sir," said Tactical, and blew the Orion ship to hell with the aid of a photon torpedo, privately lamenting the loss of such female pulchritude.

* * *

"So what is the plan?" said T'Pol, as she worked a few switches aboard the Defiant's shuttle.

Soval looked round him, then studied his instrument panel, then addressed T'Pol while somewhat distracted by the process of preparing to depart the Andorian transport which had brought them from Vulcan to Andoria.

"We make our way to Laikan, the Andorian capitol," said Soval, as the belly of the transport slid aside, to reveal the ice blue moon which was Andoria. "If anyone knows the whereabouts of the Defiant, it will be known in Laikan."

A scrolling line of text on the shuttle's windshield notified Soval that Andorian ground control had cleared the shuttle for admittance to Andoria, and a landing spot in Laikan. Without further delay, Soval yanked back on a stick, and released the magnetic lock which kept the shuttle secured to the transport ship, and then the shuttle made a graceful drop for Andoria, drawn to the large moon by the pull of gravity.

T'Pol watched the older Vulcan handle the controls with a skill born of endless practice through the years, and waited for him to speak again, but finally impatience got the best of her.

"How long do you believe it will be before we have our answer?" said T'Pol, looking at Soval.

Soval snorted gently, and said, "Relax, T'Pol. I know you mean to thrust yourself into Captain Tucker's arms like a plump chicken ready to be plucked, but we will find your love when we find him."

"My love?" said T'Pol, not best pleased by the turn this conversation had taken. "That is a ridiculous notion, Soval, and you know that. It is in bad taste to even joke of it."

"Yes, you are right, T'Pol," said Soval, visibly rolling his eyes in a look calculated to drive T'Pol mad. "I was out of line."

As it turned out, it did not take long to find news of the Defiant, since the ship had rescued hundreds of Orion captives and it was clear that the Defiant was somewhere in the Green Belt, but despite the finite speeds of warp drives, that still left a vast area to search.

"We could just head out there," said T'Pol, though she was not crazy about the idea.

"We are just as likely to be discovered by the Orions, and enslaved, as we are to find the Defiant," said Soval. "Be logical T'Pol."

"Well, if you have a better alternative," said T'Pol, "I'm listening."

"I say that we wait here until Captain Tucker tires of his games," said Soval, "and returns to Andorian space. Surely he will pass by here on his way back to Earth. Any other course involves making too wide a detour."

"That is an unacceptable delay, Soval," said T'Pol.

"No, what is unacceptable is being enslaved by the Orions, and ending up in some hungry female's harem," said Soval. "I can not speak for your market value, T'Pol, but I am certain that I would be snapped up immediately."

T'Pol nodded, silently agreeing with Soval's high opinion of himself, then said, "We could at least poke about the edges of the Green Band. You know the Andorian Guards patrol that area heavily, and you know that the Orions come nowhere close to those patrol routes."

"Fine, T'Pol," said Soval. "We will do just that, and no more."

* * *

"Who are you?" said Trip, once the computer had assimilated enough of the alien's speech to come to an understanding of his language.

"My name is Okram," said the alien. "I am a Botha."

"None of us have ever seen your kind, Okram," said Trip. "Where are you from?"

"A long way way from here," said Okram. "What your people call the Delta Quadrant."

The distances involved in such a journey seemed incredible to Trip, so he said, "How did you travel all this way?"

"Through a wormhole which exited in the Orion's region of control," said Okram. "That fact did not work out well for us."

Trip nodded, then said, "Is there significance to your robes, the hieroglyphs on your robes?"

"My robes signify that I am a psionic priest among my people."

"Psionic… You're a psychic then," said Trip. "A powerful one?"

"Powerful enough among my people," said Okram, looking at Trip speculatively. "But I am bound to avoid doing evil with my powers, Captain. If pressed hard enough through torture I have the ability to commit suicide, though I would prefer to avoid that option. Why I should wish to live, I am not certain, for my chances of ever returning home seem slim, but a man must have hope."

"I suppose," said Trip. "What are your plans? If I drop you on the next populated planet, will you try to find your way back to that wormhole?"

"I do not know," said Okram. "Frankly, I'm overwhelmed right now."

"I understand," said Trip. "Well, consider yourself a guest on my ship for now. Opportunities may open up for you in time."

"Gratitude, Captain," said Okram.

"No problem," said Trip. "You're free to move about the ship, save a few sensitive areas, Okram, and you'll be supplied with a portable translator soon."

Okram nodded his head gratefully, and Trip was about to leave when he had an errant thought.

"Okram, are you familiar with Vulcans?"

"I have met two so far, while in the care of the Orions," said Okram. "Why?"

"They are also a psionic species," said Trip, "though they are touch telepaths."

"Yes…" said Okram, certain that there was more to all this.

"Well, one of my crewmen, and occasional lovers," said Trip, "has the annoying tendency of controlling me psionically. Would you be able to help me with that problem?"

"It is against the codes of my sect to do harm, Captain," said Okram. "What exactly do you expect of me?"

"I'm not talking about harming anyone, Okram," said Trip, "but maybe you can do something to render me immune to those effects? Or maybe render her unable to affect me?"

"I suppose I could," said Okram, seeing the purpose in the captain's words: it was proper to aid a victim of psychic manipulation. "I suppose the proper course of action here is if I short-circuit her ability to use that power with you, if you take my meaning. Where is this crewman?"

"She's off the ship at the moment," said Trip, "but I have a feeling she'll pop up sooner or later. She's like a leopard, always ready to pounce on me from behind."

Okram nodded, sympathizing with the man over a case of psionic parasitism, and said, "I will be glad to be of assistance to you when she returns, Captain."

* * *

The next day, Trip was back in Engineering to confer with his Chief Engineer and a few of his lieutenants, when the Chief began looking at Trip oddly.

"What?" said Trip.

"What's with your face, Captain?" said the Chief.

Noting the direction of the man's gaze, Trip ran his hand along his face, to feel that one of his scabs was lifting. It was one of the smaller ones, but it felt like it was peeling off. He grabbed hold of the scab and pulled it gently upwards. The Chief and his lieutenants watched intently, then looked at Trip. For his part, Trip felt smooth skin where before had been nothing but fibrous tissue, and sighed, then noted the looks of his engineers.

"I came across some medical data when we took this ship, and I forwarded that data to Phlox," said Trip. "He devised a treatment for us, and if it doesn't kill me in the next couple of weeks, you guys are next."

The visible excitement of his men was understandable. Trip felt it himself, but it was good to give hope to the hopeless, and it was good to feel it, but eventually Trip moved on from Engineering. He made a detour by his quarters, then headed for Sick Bay.

"Ah, Captain," said Phlox. "What brings you here?"

"I kept my part of the bargain," said Trip. "I forwarded you the rest of the data files dealing with radiation sickness. So far as I know, you are now the most advanced practicing doctor in that area of medicine now."

"Wonderful, Captain," said Phlox, clearly pleased, and eager to view the rest of the promised material. "Where do we go from here? What medical wonders do we tackle next?"

"I'll let you know in a few days," said Trip.

"Excellent, Captain," said Phlox, pleased that the captain was honoring their contract so perfectly: he and the captain would go far, that much was certain.

* * *

"See! There!" said T'Pol, pointing out the unexpected energy signatures on long range sensors.

Soval looked, and noted the visual representations which had drawn T'Pol's attention. Six Andorian energy signatures, five Vulcan, three Tellarite, all traveling together.

"Rebels?" said T'Pol.

"Yes," said Soval. "I can not think of any other reason for Vulcan and Andorian ships to travel together."

"What do you think they are doing out here?"

"I suspect that they are here for the same reason we are, T'Pol."

"The Defiant?" said T'Pol. "You think they mean to destroy the ship, or capture it?"

"Only one way to find out," said Soval.


	14. Chapter 14

— **Chapter 14—**

"Sorry to keep you waiting," said Shran as he entered the captain's dining room.

"Don't worry about it," said Trip. "Sorry you missed lunch, today. I would have relieved you, but Phlox kept me in his Sick Bay for two hours."

"It's nothing," said Shran, looking at Trip with concern in his eyes. "Why did Phlox keep you that long? This is the second time in a week that you've spent two hours in his Sick Bay. What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing, actually," said Trip. "Seems Phlox found a cure for the radiation sickness which afflicts engineers. I have one more session to go."

"That's fantastic!" said Shran. "I noticed your scars improving in appearance, but didn't want to say anything in case I was mistaken."

"Yes, Phlox either found a cure, or he's found a new and unique way to poison his captain," said Trip.

"If you die of his treatment, he dies by my ushaan-tor," said Shran, and Trip took comfort from Shran's loyalty.

The captain's steward came in then, and brought an ice bucket with three bottles of Andorian ale and a bottle of sake, all chilling within the bucket. Shran looked at the bottles and tilted his head in a quick jerky movement that reminded Trip of an owl, so he laughed.

"You mean us to kill all four bottles?" said Shran. "What if something that needs out attention pops up?"

"Don't worry about it," said Trip, opening one of the bottles and filling up two shot glasses. "Most of the ale is for you. I'm having the sake, which has a much lower alcohol content."

"What?" said Shran, laughing. "Why?"

"Because you're going to tell me why you ended up in prison," said Trip, sliding a shot glass at Shran. "I know there's got to be a juicy story behind it all."

"In that case I am going to need a drink. KashTria," said Shran, meaning 'Good Fortune' in Andorian.

"KashTria," said Trip, and they downed the first shot, then Trip filled up the glasses for another round, and then another, and another.

The steward brought out some Vietnamese fried springrolls, stuffed with shrimp, pork, mushrooms and carrots. The stuffing was tasty, the thin rice paper wrapper was golden and crispy, save where it was blistered and crunchy… they were heaven, but he and Shran were not here for the food. Trip poured another shot, and then another, and then another, and saw the effects of the ale upon Shran, which was not surprising, as Andorian ale was as good as rocket fuel. Another round of fried spring rolls, as well as some fried oysters and stuffed shrimp, another few shots, and Trip knew his time had come. He smiled at Shran and raised brow in parody of T'Pol, and Shran began his story.

"You know I like the ballet," said Shran, and Trip nodded along encouragingly, "and all Andorians love ballet. We even imported some of your best teachers to Andoria in order to create our own native dancers."

Trip nodded. He'd double 'dated' once, with Shran and Talas on one side, him and T'Pol on the other… He hated to even think of it now, but that had been after T'Pol's first pon'farr, when he'd hoped for something more with T'Pol than a series of backstabbing and manipulative maneuvers. So he'd bought four tickets, and invited the Andorians and the Vulcan to a night at the ballet, and a dinner afterwards. T'Pol had enjoyed the dancing, but nowhere near as much as the Andorians. They were captivated by the elegance, the precision, the grace… Trip poured another shot for them both, and looked back encouragingly at Shran.

"I used to go to the opera house each and every time I could when on Andoria, in order to see our own ballet dancers, and judge their progress," said Shran, "and I eventually met someone there, sort of. An Andorian beauty with eyes like cold mountain lakes. We never spoke, as she was always accompanied by some sort of chaperone, but we always had eyes for the other through the course of the performance, though we tried to be discreet."

"Well you're a handsome devil, Shran," said Trip encouragingly. "Were you wearing your dress uniform by any chance?"

Shran nodded his head.

"Well, there you go," said Trip. "You looked dashing as well. The poor girl never stood a chance!"

Shran nodded once again, miserably.

"What is her name?"

"Lidia," said Shran. "I found that out eventually."

"Ok, so what happened between you and Lidia?"

"One night a traveling band of Human entertainers was performing Irish folk dances at the opera house, and Lidia was there as well, and that night I could barely tear my eyes from the Irish dancers to glance at her. The dancers were magnificent!"

"Yeah, I've seen them," said Trip. "They're great. What you may not know is that a low state of guerrilla warfare exists between ballet dancers and Irish folk dancers."

"What? Why?" said Shran.

"Never mind," said Trip. "Get back to your story."

"Right," said Shran, popping a fried oyster in his mouth, and following it with a shot of ale. "Well that night, Lidia shook her chaperone and sought me out during intermission. It was the first time we spoke.

"Captain…" she'd said, gliding up to me.

"Shran," I said, "and if I might ask…"

"Lidia."

"Charmed," I said.

"I doubt it," she said, her eyes on fire. "I do not think that you spared a single glance for me this night, Captain!"

"If so, I was a fool, Lidia. Let me prove it," I said, working to convince her to spend some time with me, and eventually she relented. We left the opera house that moment, and hit a little bistro that's renowned for its quality, then ended back up at my place, where we spent a magical night. I've never been so happy, Trip, and Lidia's eyes were dancing with joy when she left me in the morning."

"Sounds great, Shran," said Trip, knowing that tragedy was just around the corner. "So what happened?"

"I was called in the next morning by an Admiral and read the riot act," said Shran. "Lidia is a minor relation to the Zhael, and she'd been marked for someone with whom the Zhael wished to have a closer political tie."

Trip nodded sympathetically, and Shran continued.

"But I couldn't stop thinking about Lidia," said Shran, "and apparently she felt the same, as someone delivered me a letter with the faint scent of her perfume on it. She felt what I felt. What could I do? We snuck out again, and again, to be together, and eventually we were found out. I was sentenced to twenty-four months in prison for disobeying a direct order, and while inside, word reached me that Lidia was pregnant with my child, and officially disavowed by the Zhael. I have a son, Trip, yet I am forbidden to see either of them, ever again, save from the distance."

Shran sighed, completely miserable now, and Trip wanted, needed, to throw him a life line.

"Shran, look at me."

Shran kept his eyes down, still lost in his grief.

"Shran," said Trip, and this time Shran looked up. "You know my intentions, and I promise you, if I make Emperor, the Zhael will not deny me a favor. I will insist upon it."

Shran's eyes opened at the thought and this time Trip saw hope in the Andorian's eyes.

"You may count on me to do whatever it takes to see you gain the crown, Captain," said Shran.

"I know," said Trip. "But than, I could always count on you, Shran, so nothing changes there."

* * *

"Shuttle One to the Tolek," said Soval, reading the Vulcan ship's name from it's transponder signal.

He and T'Pol had closed in on the rebel formation relatively quickly, as those ships had picked up the shuttle's energy signature on their respective sensors and come to a halt, curious at what an unarmed Human shuttle might be doing in the area at this time, and in time, the small video screen on the shuttle flickered to life, and the Bridge of the Tolek was displayed, with the Vulcan captain centered in the screen.

"I am Captain Sulek," said the Vulcan captain, "and you seem to be lost, Shuttle One."

"We are not," said Soval. "Rather we are searching for the Defiant."

"Indeed," said Sulek. "Why is that?"

"The High Command is debating on what course to adopt where Captain Tucker is concerned," said Soval, "and some of us believe that Commander Tucker will prevail and become the next Terran Emperor, and so we wish to prove our loyalty to him, in order to persuade him to look kindly upon Vulcan."

"I see," said Sulek. "It seems that we have missed much lately, but as it happens, we are also searching for the Defiant. You are welcome aboard my ship until we find the Defiant."

"Why do you seek the Defiant?" said T'Pol, speaking for the first time.

"We had intended to capture the ship," said Sulek.

"To make the attempt would be foolish," said T'Pol. "I assure you, the Defiant will make short work of you all, quite quickly."

"We have heard rumors of this ship's capacities," said Sulek, "and hoped they were exaggerated."

"They were not," said T'Pol.

Sulek seemed thoughtful for a few moments, then said, "Well, in any case, you will not find the Defiant in a shuttle. In exchange for our aid, perhaps you could tell us about this Captain Tucker."

"Agreed," said Soval.

* * *

Pursuing some leads from the Botha, who had been an Orion captive for months, the Defiant headed into Orion space to eventually come upon a large shipyard orbiting a small moon, onto which the Orions had built something like a military stronghold, to enforce their control of this sector of space. Without attempt at subtlety, for such would have been impossible, given that Orion sensor arrays would have picked up the Defiant long before her arrival, the Defiant simply plunged into the fray, relying on her shields and the Helmsman's abilities to keep the Defiant safe, while the ship's weapons worked hard to reduce the Orion shipyard to a field of debris.

They'd been at it for twenty minutes and doing a good job of it, when the unexpected happened: fourteen ships of mixed composition warped in to the scene and joined the Defiant in combating the Orion ships which had, up to that point, been swarming round the Defiant. It was enough, and though the Orions still outnumbered their enemies, the rebels bought the Defiant enough time to turn the shipyard into scrap, before turning it's weapons arrays onto the Orions. Shortly afterwards, the Orions broke, and fled, only to be pursued, and destroyed.

Eventually, the Defiant stood in place, surrounded by the rebel strike force, and although an NX class ship would have been at a hopeless disadvantage in such a position, the Defiant was not, and on the other side, the rebels had seen the Defiant's capabilities, so they politely powered down their weapons, though not their shields, and the Defiant did the same.

"Hail the Defiant," said captain Sulek, sharing the screen with captain Melonos, and soon enough the screen was divided once more, to display an image of the Defiant's Bridge, along with that of the other two ships Bridges.

"Well met, Captain Tucker," said Sulek, and Trip nodded.

"Shran? Is that you?" said Melonos, noting the Andorian that had moved into the frame of the Defiant's video stream. "Last I heard you were imprisoned."

"Melonos!" said Shran. "Last I heard you were sexually servicing the entire Tellarite navy."

Melonos laughed at that, and it seemed that introductions had been made all round.

"What can I do for you fine captains today?" said Trip.

"For a start," said Melonos, "you can thank us for the help we've just rendered your ship and your crew."

"I didn't ask for your help, and I didn't need it," said Trip, annoyed at the Andorian's tone. "Now, what do you want?"

"As a matter of fact," said Sulek, "we are returning one of your shuttles. Soval was in the middle of nowhere, searching for the Defiant. He seemed quite eager to find you, so we gave him a hand."

"Much obliged in that case," said Trip. "Feel free to send him over with my shuttle pod, and with my thanks."

"Will do," said Sulek.

"Anything else?" said Trip.

"It seems you bring the winds of change to the Empire, Captain," said Sulek. "Many eyes will be watching your coming moves."

"Fair enough," said Trip, "but it would do Vulcans well to stay out of this contest. To stand against me would be a mistake."

"Yes," said Sule, "Soval has told us that you mean to set Vulcan free. A week ago, I would have approved of your purpose, but Soval can be quite persuasive, and he argues for displaying our loyalty and making a contribution to your victory, in return for a favorable place in your Empire."

Trip snorted at that, and said, "Typical Vulcan bullshit. Offer loyalty in return for preferential treatment. No thanks. I have no doubt that if Melonos and I ever cross paths we'll try to kill each other in short order, but if ever he swears loyalty to me he'll mean it, and it won't be for scraps from my table. Send me my shuttle, Sulek, then get out of my sight before I remember that you're rebels against the Empire."

"As are you," said Sulek.

"Clock's running, Sulek," said Trip. "Make the most of it."

The Defiant's data stream ended, and Sulek was left in communication once more with Molonos alone. Sulek looked at Molonos, not pleased with his conversation with Captain Tucker. For his part, Molonos laughed.

"He's a prick, all right," said the Andorian, "but I could get used to him, and if Shran chose to be a part of his crew the Human can't be all that bad. We will speak later, Sulek."

The Andorian's data stream ended, and Sulek sighed, and looked round the Bridge to lock eyes with Soval, who looked displeased as well.

"I'll take my leave of you now, Captain," said Soval. "I thank you for your assistance to reach the Defiant."

Sulek nodded and Soval headed for the Shuttle Bay, where T'Pol had been warming up the shuttle, and waiting impatiently for Soval since the end of the battle. She hadn't even waited on the Bridge long enough for the inevitable communication with the Defiant… Or perhaps she didn't want Captain Tucker to see her before she could board the Defiant: with T'Pol, anything was possible. Soval entered the shuttle, and sat silently as T'Pol piloted the shuttle to the Defiant's own Shuttle Bay, then exited the ship to find Captain Tucker waiting for him in the Shuttle Bay.

"Soval," said Trip as he approached the shuttle, obviously pleased to see the Vulcan. "Long time no see you Vulc—"

The captain froze, and from the corner of his eye, Soval caught sight of T'Pol exiting the shuttle and standing next to him, standing at attention with hands clasped behind her back, poised and proud on the deck of the Defiant once more.

The captain remembered himself, and approached Soval and T'Pol both. He inspected T'Pol from head to toe, noting the outfit that covered everything but her hands, neck and head, but left nothing to the imagination, given how snugly it fit, and he then grabbed a handful of T'Pol's hair, and pulled her face closer to his. T'Pol did not resist, though her eyes looked resentful of the treatment, not that the captain cared, or had eyes for anyone but T'Pol.

"I always knew you were a pain in the ass, T'Pol," said Trip, "but I never thought you were stupid."

"I am not stupid, Captain," said T'Pol.

Trip released his hold and T'Pol pulled back, though not as far as she might have done, and looked at the captain, her eyes still resentful at the public display of his displeasure.

"No, you must be stupid T'Pol," said Trip, "or you'd never have returned to the Defiant after my warning. Report to the—"

"Agony Booth?" said T'Pol, brow raised in challenge.

"Precisely," said Trip. "Clear the room. I'll be there in a few minutes to light you up."

T'Pol merely looked at the captain in her most inscrutable gaze, then walked away, Trip watching her intently, but that was understandable… the hardest man could not but admire that lovely view. Once T'Pol had left the Shuttle Bay, Trip waved an Ensign over.

"We'll speak in a bit, Soval," said Trip, "but let's get you settled in first, in a private cabin."

"Yes, Captain," said Soval, and moments later he too was gone from the Shuttle Bay.

* * *

***Kathy, Rishooter - Ok, I looked at the reviews for this story, and both of you are really good at anticipating the plot, and you both have good ideas. I know Ris won't write stories, because I've tried to get him to do so before, but Kathy, you should sign up for a membership and start cranking out stories for us all to read. You'd be really good. In any case, I think you'll both hate what the Botha is about to do quite soon. Hate it!

Kathy - I just had Shran kill a few dozen female Orion dancers in order to maintain some credibility and to make this story feel more evil, but you were right to call me up on the carpet for it - everyone is still a bit too goody, goody for the MU. As far as the Botha being good, at least so far, not every member of every species will be evil, but you are right, I'll have to crank up the dial on evil if I'm to hope that I can maintain some self-respect.


	15. Chapter 15

— **Chapter 15—**

T'Pol moved through the halls of the Defiant, making her way to the Agony Booth on Deck E, only to find Phlox there, administering punishment to Crewman Liz Cutler. That fact was not surprising, as administering discipline fell either to Security or to the doctor, since he had specialized medical knowledge and the skill to manipulate the Agony Booth parameters a bit more efficiently than even the computer, in order to wring a bit more pain out of the Booth. That he was a sadist who found inflicting pain on others pleasurable, was irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

"T'Pol," said Phlox, his usual cheerful self. "I wasn't aware you'd returned to the ship."

"I just boarded, Doctor."

"I see," said Phlox. "Security asked me to conduct this disciplinary session on Crewman Cutler. Do you have a medical emergency?"

"No," said T'Pol. "Captain Tucker needs this room cleared now. You can resume your punishment of Crewman Cutler at a later time."

"Very good," said Phlox, and minutes later, Phlox was helping Crewman Cutler to her quarters, as the doctor was a most considerate sadist.

A wooden bench ran along one wall, opposite the Agony Booth, in order to provide any spectators a comfortable place from which to view the proceedings: since the spectators were often next in line for time in the Agony Booth, it also served to create a feeling of dread in these people, which only made the entire process even more unpleasant for them.

T'Pol sat, and breathed deeply. In other circumstances, she'd prepare herself to control the pain, and even ride the pain to a degree, keeping some measure of control in the process, but this was impossible in the Agony Booth, given that the pain could be maintained and extended indefinitely at peak levels.

No, the time in an Agony Booth could not be overcome, it could only be endured. Every species had an associated pain management profile, and maximum exposure time in the Agony Booth: exceed those parameters, and the tormented ran all kinds of risks, from heart attack, to a brain stroke, permanent psychological damage, etc., and T'Pol could only hope that Captain Tucker was not so displeased with her presence on the Defiant as to actually kill her in the booth, for all that she felt that to be an impossibility on the man's part… well, the merest chance of a possibility.

The room's door slid open then and T'Pol stood as Captain Tucker entered the room, approaching her. She'd been too excited when first boarding the Defiant to notice, but here and now, T'Pol noticed that the radiation ravaged side of his face seemed different. The sores were closing, the scabs seemed smaller and there were perhaps a few less than usual, and the skin had taken on a healthy hue, and seemed to be knitting.

Trip noticed the direction of T'Pol's look, and said, "It seems that Doctor Phlox found a cure for my condition."

"Fascinating," said T'Pol. "I know that such a thing was considered impossible. I looked into it myself, after our first mating."

"Even so," said Trip, surprised that T'Pol had troubled herself to look into possible cures for him, "you're not here to be fascinated, my fine Vulcan. You're here to suffer, since you chose to disregard my advice. But before the pain, tell me why you're here?"

"I have my duty to the ship," said T'Pol, "and my captain."

"Umm, hmm," said Trip. "Yeah, all right."

He leaned in then and kissed T'Pol, and it was quite nice. T'Pol had been used and discarded in less time than the captain took to enjoy that kiss, so much so that she forgot the man's somewhat justified paranoia about her touching his face, and thus having access to the psi points on his face, and she brought her hands up to touch him, pull him closer still, but the captain grasped her hands and pulled back, a hard look in his eyes now.

"You've had your fun, T'Pol. Get in the booth," said Trip, and T'Pol gave a slight nod, and stepped inside.

She faced Captain Tucker as he fiddled with the settings of the Agony Booth's controls, looking intently at the man. He looked back at her and smiled, and then the world blacked out for T'Pol. Seeing T'Pol's unconscious body slide to the floor, Trip reached out through the bracelet and through the data lines running through this control panel, and instructed the computer that this room's door should slide aside immediately, and once that happened, the Botha entered the room and approached T'Pol, though he had no need to touch her, or remove her from the glass booth.

"Come stand next to the booth, Captain," said the Botha, taking a seat on the floor, legs crossed. "I need you both in my sights."

Trip followed the Botha's instructions, and knelt as close to T'Pol as practical.

"Now you understand what you're doing, right?" said Trip, though they'd discussed the matter several times since the Botha had boarded the Defiant.

"Yes, yes, Captain," said the Botha. "We wish to deny this Vulcan the ability to control you through her touch telepathy. Nothing more."

"Exactly," said Trip. "And don't fry her mind in the process. That would be nice."

"I understand, Captain," said the Botha, "and that is not something that I would do under any circumstances. Now, give me a few minutes of silence, and do nothing until I speak to you again."

"Right," said Trip.

The Botha closed his eyes, and breathed deeply, the purposeful act bringing a mental state upon the Botha, perfectly balanced between a relaxed sense of pure awareness and an intense focus, as if the man was staring so deeply at the two beings in front of him through his inner sight, that he was one with them, that he was them.

He touched the Human's mind first, and once he passed the sum of the man's life experiences, he felt/saw/tasted the essential purity of his mind. The Human knew where he'd been, he knew exactly where he was going, and he moved easily towards his goal because he offered no inner resistance to his purpose. The man was an arrow in flight, or perhaps a poem, but a very sparse poem, describing only the essentials and leaving all else behind. All in all, the man's mind was refreshing for its ascetic restraint, a fact brought forcibly to the forefront when the Botha reached out to touch the Vulcan's mind.

The Vulcan's mind was a different thing all together. Passions suppressed, warring with some attempts at logic, the Vulcan's strong desires for a richer life stunted and frustrated at every turn by a universe which seemed determined to deny her those very things. A few rays of light, a few friends, a difficult mother, an older Vulcan male which the Botha recognized as the Vulcan who had come aboard the Defiant at the same time as this T'Pol. Most strongly, a sense of affection for the captain, cynically suppressed in part, yet warring with memories of pleasant couplings, and odd moments that touched something within the Vulcan.

Remembering his purpose now, the Botha psychically grasped the man's essence, and brought it in close proximity to the Vulcan's essence, in a very inaccurate manner of speaking, intending only to sever the Vulcan's ability to manipulate the man through her mental powers, but something completely unexpected happened then, and it happened in the blink of an eye, startling Okram, so much so that the Botha's eyes opened suddenly, the overwhelming surprise clearly apparent on his face.

"What?" said Trip, forgetting his instructions not to disturb the Botha.

The Botha raised his left hand, meaning: shut up. He worked his will on the Vulcan then, severing her ability to psionically control and influence the man ever again. She'd never know precisely why, but she'd know the frustration of trying and failing, time after time, if she tried to manipulate the captain. His work done, Okram drew back into himself, sighed, and relaxed.

"Did it work?" said Trip.

"Yes," said Okram, weary now.

"But something you did not expect happened as well, didn't it?" said Trip, a calculating look in his eyes as he glanced at the Botha.

"Yes," said the Botha. "Finish up here, and we will talk of it."

"Captain's Mess," said Trip. "One hour."

"Very good, Captain," said the Botha, and moments later left the room.

Trip stood, and returned to his place at the control panel. He looked at T'Pol's bio readings, and as expected they were quite normal for an unconscious Vulcan. He'd purposely overloaded her system through the pain inducing subroutines built into the Agony Booth, very much as if he'd used a stun gun on T'Pol, in order to drive her into unconsciousness. A few adjustments now, a slow gradual manipulation of the controls and T'Pol slowly regained consciousness, stood, and looked at Trip.

"What happened?" said T'Pol, and the speaker system relayed her question: the speakers were installed in order to conduct question and answer sessions with the tortured, as well as the simple pleasure of hearing their suffering.

"You just passed out for a few seconds," said Trip. "You know how Phlox plays with the settings on this control panel, instead of allowing the computer to do its work. I'll have to speak with him about it."

"I see," said T'Pol, feeling warm then, and warming still, as Captain Tucker fiddled still with the settings in the booth: she felt the first tendrils of unease, as she knew this was just a first, gentle sensation, compared to what she'd soon feel.

"Perhaps it would be wise to have the doctor look me over," said T'Pol, "and make certain that his work has not permanently damaged me."

"It hasn't," said Trip. "In any case, if you were so concerned about your safety, you should have never returned to the Defiant, T'Pol."

Trip left the control panel and came to stand in front of the glass booth which contained T'Pol. She was wincing now, as the Agony Booth began working in earnest, and the walls of the glass booth seemed to be a fire to the Vulcan, a fire getting ever closer to her skin. Trip watched T'Pol reach out and place her left hand on the glass, and he reached out to her in the same manner, separated from T'Pol by three inches of tempered glass. He watched her face contort in agony now as the Vulcan felt as if her skin was being blistered by heat, and Trip noted with detachment that her face looked to be almost contorted by pleasure at times. Then the screams began in earnest as T'Pol felt herself set ablaze, and though she tried to maintain eye contact with the captain so long as possible and failed, her hand never left the glass. Trip felt an impulse to show mercy, then suppressed it ruthlessly. She'd earned her place in the booth many times over, and if memory served him right, he'd done hours in that booth due to compulsions she'd placed in his mind. He left her then, to enjoy her three hour cycle in the Agony Booth, and on leaving the room, he sealed the door on his authority. No one would be interrupting T'Pol's fun, and he'd decide then if she'd do another cycle then, or later.

Trip walked to the Bridge then and checked in with Shran, then back to his quarters for a shower, after which he headed for the Captain's Mess, only to find Okram already there and waiting patiently for him to arrive.

"I hope I haven't kept you waiting, Okram," said Trip.

"I only just made it here before you, Captain," said Okram, and Trip sat with Okram.

The captain's steward brought them each a drink: Okram favored fruit smoothies spiked with light rum, while Trip asked for a Vietnamese iced coffee, and soon after their drinks, came a light lunch: soups, salads, sandwiches.

"So," said Trip, looking at Okram speculatively as they began eating, "what happened back there?"

Okram briefly explained the process he'd intended to utilize in order to do as Trip desired, and got to the part where he'd brought Trip's psychic essence in proximity with T'Pol's, and used two fists held nine inches apart to illustrate his meaning.

"That's when it happened, Captain," said Okram.

"What happened?"

"Something within the Vulcan leaped out at you in a fraction of a second, Captain, and held you fast," said Okram.

"Some form of control?" said Trip, wondering if he'd just given T'Pol more power over him.

"No, you did not resist her touch, Captain," said Okram.

"I'm not a psychic, Okram," said Trip.

"Doesn't matter. If you'd found her hold on you repulsive you'd have resisted, but if anything, you just twined yourself around her in turn, and then covered her completely, as if to prevent her from ever pulling back," said Okram, demonstrating his point by covering a fist completely by an open hand.

"Ok, none of this makes sense to me," said Trip. "Will she be able to manipulate me psychically, as she has in the past?"

"No," said Okram.

"And this link between us, it will fade in time?" said Trip.

"I do not know," said Okram. "It felt permanent, and it felt like a mating bond."

"Vulcan's don't form permanent mating bonds," said Trip.

"This Vulcan might be different," said Okram.

"You don't seem too torn up over this," said Trip, looking skeptically at Okram. "If you're telling the truth, you just tied T'Pol to me for the rest of her life, against her will."

"There is no fault here, for any of us," said Okram. "Your request for help was honorable, my own efforts aimed only to keep the Vulcan from manipulating you in an unethical manner, and no more than that. She reached out for you willingly, and you captured her in turn, of your own choice. None of us need feel any quilt over the matter."

"So that's it?"

"That's it, Captain," said Okram. "The Vulcan's fate is her fate, and it is already determined. It seems that her fate was always to belong to you, or perhaps she chose that fate for herself, depending on your metaphysical views. Either way, it is done, and it is permanent."

"Fascinating," said Trip, meaning to allude to T'Pol's habitual response to novelty, but as Okram did not know T'Pol, the joke passed right over his head.

"That it is, Captain," said Okram. "That it is."

* * *

Two hours after lunching with Okram, and three hours since tossing T'Pol in the Agony Booth, Trip returned there to find T'Pol still writhing in pain, and he realized with only slight regret that he'd left the intensity of T'Pol's torments set to maximum levels on the control panel. He slowly powered down the device, and helped T'Pol out of the booth and onto the bench to rest for a bit, as sore muscles which had clenched and unclenched so often and so intensely would pain T'Pol for days. Although the Agony Booth did no permanent damage of any kind, psychologically it had the same effects as actual torture, and most did not find it in themselves to simply bounce out of the booth and go about their day. Some twenty minutes later T'Pol came back to herself fully and looked at Captain Tucker.

"You have another session tonight," said Trip. "Six hours. Until then you're free to move about the ship. I suggest you go to your quarters and rest."

"My quarters?" said T'Pol, as she'd imagined the captain would have had her relatively luxurious quarters assigned to another officer.

"I had a bad feeling that you'd return to the Defiant, sooner or later, so everything is as you left it," said Trip, a rueful smile on his face. "Return here in four hours, for your second session, or I'll have you dragged here, and I'll double your time in the booth."

"Yes, Captain," said T'Pol, and then slowly she stood and left the room.

* * *

Sure enough, when Trip returned to the Agony Booth four hours later, T'Pol met him just in time, punctual as ever. She looked as poised as ever also, but Trip felt the fear in her mind at her upcoming time in the booth. If it was just a matter of imagining her fear, well that was one thing, but Trip had the odd sensation that he was actually sensing T'Pol's emotions.

"Ready?" said Trip, willing to forgive the rest of her sentence in exchange for one word, one gesture of contrition, but T'Pol looked still as proud and unrepentant as ever.

"Yes," said T'Pol and entered the booth willingly.

Trip cranked up the booth once more, and they did the hand on the glass once more, before the pain became too intense, and turned T'Pol into nothing but a creature of sensation.

After six hours of taking care of ship's business, Trip returned to the room which contained the Agony Booth, and he bypassed the security lock he'd put on the door. T'Pol was still writhing in pain and Trip stepped up to the glass in order to look at her for a few moments, before he'd set her free.

"Please! Please!" screamed T'Pol, which made sense: she'd have no sense of time while in that state, and for all she knew Trip was looking in on her early, and she was pleading for clemency.

A few moments more of looking into T'Pol's pain filled eyes, and then Trip went to the control panel and deactivated the device, and T'Pol promptly collapsed. He helped her crawl out of the booth, but she did not have the strength to stand, so Trip squatted before T'Pol, though she refused to face him, refused to look up at him. He'd been about to speak to her, when the door slid open and two security officers pushed a crewman from Ship's Operations into the room.

Trip spun, stood and said, "Get out! Wait outside!"

"Yes, sir," said one of the security officers, and promptly backed out of the room with their prisoner.

Trip turned and brought his attention back to T'Pol, who was moving now, doing something… A moment to analyze her movements, as T'Pol moved her right hand in a semi-circle across the floor, as if sweeping sand before her hand into a pile, then grasping a handful of that imaginary sand, and scattering it over her still bowed head. He'd never seen her do that before, but it was clearly a Vulcan sign of submission, or perhaps a plea for mercy, or both… She performed the gesture three times, then simply sighed, and remained silent, head still bowed, looking at the floor.

Trip tried to help her stand, but she was still too weak, her muscles still tense after all the pain they'd seemingly endured, so Trip scooped her up, and took T'Pol to her quarters, where he set her on her bunk and moved to leave.

"Don't go," said T'Pol, rising painfully to a sitting position. "Stay the night. Please."

After a moment's thought, Trip stripped off his uniform while looking at T'Pol, the Vulcan silent, but watching the man intently as he stripped. He helped her to her feet, then saw T'Pol freed of her skintight Vulcan outfit. She kissed him then, and unconsciously reached for his head to pull him closer still, before she remembered the man's dislike of that action, and his reasons for it, and T'Pol awkwardly lowered her hands.

"It's ok," said Trip, and when T'Pol looked at him uncertainly, took her hands and placed them on his face, perilously close the the psi points that T'Pol had touched before in order to control him: still, Okram's work either removed that weapon from her arsenal, or he'd best find out now. Better yet if that sand sweeping gesture might signify that her days of trickery were over.

They kissed then for a bit longer, after which T'Pol sat back down on her bunk, grabbing part of Trip in the process, and soon enough she made it a point to pleasure that part of Trip with her hands and her mouth for a while, before the man could stand no more, and wanted more of her in turn. They made a night of it then, and when Captain Tucker finally fell asleep next to her near dawn, T'Pol was still awake, though her mind was at peace for once. She nestled in closer to the man's body then, the suffering of the previous day forgotten, and accounted a small price to pay in order to bring her here, and now.


	16. Chapter 16

— **Chapter 16—**

T'Pol woke at dawn, by ship's time. The computer had sensed weight and movement on the floor and had activated the night lights in response, which provided more than enough light for her to see Trip getting dressed. He'd already slid into his pants and slipped into his boots, and had just grabbed his t-shirt off the floor, even as T'Pol spun round on the bed to a sitting position despite the pain such movement caused her still, the bed sheet wrapped round her torso. She said nothing, just watched Captain Tucker, but the man apparently had something to say.

"Are you kidding me, T'Pol?" said Trip, chuckling a bit, then drawing the sheet away from the Vulcan's body and caressing her left breast, which caused T'Pol to blush for some reason, though that fact was not apparent to Trip in the dim light. "Are you cold or something?"

"No," said T'Pol and left it at that. "What do you expect of me today?"

"Go back to sleep for now," said Trip. "Meet me in the captain's mess at 8 o'clock. We need to talk."

"Very well," said T'Pol.

The captain bowed a bit in order to steal a kiss from T'Pol, then left her cabin in order to conduct a few brief inspections before breakfast.

* * *

Trip's first stop was Engineering, but everything was running like clockwork. He'd done a good job in picking his replacement. His next stop was the Bridge, where Shran had just taken over from the night shift's Acting Captain, relieving that man an hour early.

"How's everything?"

"Running smoothly," said Shran. "We have a good crew here. I can't believe they're mostly rookies."

"Nobody's a rookie any more," said Trip. "We can't afford it."

Shran was about to say something, then paused and sniffed the air ostentatiously.

"What?" said Trip.

"Why do I smell the Vulcan's soap on your uniform?" said Shran, smiling. "T'Pol, I mean, not Soval."

"Oh, you're crazy," said Trip, and stepped back a bit from Shran.

"No," said Shran, antennas pointed towards Trip now, and waving slowly. "No, I'm not. Vulcan pheromones as well. Tell me everything you bastard!"

"Oh, come on, Shran," said Trip, backing steadily away from Shran, who merely watched the Human with amusement on his face. "You need to have Phlox take a look at your antennas, because they're malfunctioning."

Trip almost made it off the Bridge before Shran started laughing. Almost.

Damn him, thought Trip, he needs to stay out of my business!

Trip's next stop was Sick Bay, where he walked in just as Phlox was feeding his grisly menagerie.

"Good morning, Captain," said Phlox.

"Doctor," said Trip. "How are you feeling?"

"Feeling just fine, Captain," said Phlox. "Why?"

"If you're feeling fine I thought you might want to take a futuristic look at the aging process," said Trip.

"Ohhhh, Captain," said Phlox, clearly pleased, "I would indeed. I find the topic medically interesting, and it is a branch of science with the promise of a good deal of financial benefits."

"I thought the same, Doctor," said Trip. "Same terms as before? We benefit from the research immediately, and eventually benefit financially when you're ready to publish and make use of your research in commercial treatments."

"Certainly, Captain," said Phlox, eager to take on a new challenge.

"Good. I'll give you access to the relevant data later today," said Trip, and left Sick Bay after a brief gesture of farewell towards the doctor.

Trip's next stop was Soval's cabin.

"Good morning, Captain," said Soval, after stepping aside and inviting Trip inside the cabin.

"I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time, Soval."

"Not at all," said Soval. "How may I be of service?"

"I have a request, and a question," said Trip, and Soval nodded, listening.

"I need you in Astrogation today if you're up for it," said Trip. "We've taken a lot of sensor data while cruising the Green Belt and my people could use a hand in cataloging it all."

"Certainly, Captain," said Soval. "And the question?"

"I was watching a Vulcan movie the other night," said Trip, "and one of the characters swept his hand across the sands, then scattered some of that sand atop his head. What was he trying to convey?"

"Ah," said Soval. "That is a gesture from our ancient days, Captain, when Vulcan tribes fought each other fiercely to possess territory out of necessity. By scattering sand upon their heads the losers of these battles were conceding that they were now property of the victors, as was their land."

"I see," said Trip.

"Yes. A variation of that gesture is also performed by the females in our marriage rituals to this day, but it is performed three times," said Soval. "Such ritual signifies that the couple intends to remain together through at least one more pon'farr cycle."

Trip's heartbeat quickened at that: did that wily Vulcan fox surreptitiously marry him the previous night? Bloody hell!

Soval looked at Trip patiently, and Trip realized he had to move on.

"Ok, thanks Soval. Have breakfast, before you show up at Astrogation, and have dinner with me tonight if it pleases you. T'Pol will be there as well."

"I'd like that, Captain," said Soval. "Do I take that to mean that you have forgiven T'Pol?"

"Yes."

* * *

At 8 o'clock on the button, Trip walked into the captain's mess to find T'Pol already there, enjoying a cup of Ceylon tea, dusted with cardamom. Trip gave her a slight smile, and since they were alone here, he took a moment as he passed behind her to kiss the top of her head, and then sat down at his normal place at the table, T'Pol directly across from him. Seemingly, after a moment's thought in consideration of his gesture, T'Pol stood with tea in hand, and moved to occupy the seat to Trip's right hand. She seemed about to say something, when the steward came to take their order.

"Small rice pudding, please," said T'Pol, "topped with blueberries, raspberries and a touch of honey."

"Thick slice of cinnamon babka, with some maple syrup on the side, please," said Trip, "and a hot coffee."

"That is hardly a nutritious breakfast, Captain," said T'Pol, and seemed about to say more, but Trip intervened.

"I'll do better at lunch, T'Pol," said Trip, surprised, for T'Pol had never criticized his dietary choices before, "but you're not here to criticize my food choices."

"As you say, Captain," said T'Pol. "So, why am I here?"

"You and I have had a rocky 'relationship', if I can even call it that, since the day we met, T'Pol," said Trip, and T'Pol nodded her agreement with the captain's statement. "That is going to change now, if you agree."

"How so?" said T'Pol.

Trip waited for the steward who had just entered the room to pass out the food, and coffee, as well as refill T'Pol's tea, and in the meantime he doused his babka with maple syrup, took a bite, and sighed with appreciation, eyes closed.

"Captain?" said T'Pol, and Trip opened his eyes to note that they were alone once more, T'Pol eyeing him with cautious optimism. "You were saying? Our relationship? Changes?"

"Ah, yes," said Trip. "As I was about to say, you came back here, whatever your reasons and you paid the price for neglecting my warning. So we can start anew if you like, the bullshit in our past, forgotten."

"I would like that," said T'Pol.

"But," said Trip, "before you agree, I'll tell you now that if you screw around with me after this, it won't be the Agony Booth for you. I'll have you loaded in a torpedo tube, and shot into the sun."

"I am a Vulcan, Captain," said T'Pol, certain that the captain wouldn't actually do as he threatened, but knowing that any punishment he devised could well be much more unpleasant than the Agony Booth if he truly set his mind to it. "The sun seems an appropriate resting place for me."

"Don't make light of it, T'Pol," said Trip, "and don't force my hand."

"Sorry," said T'Pol. "I will not."

"Good. Until you betray me once more, and forfeit my trust for good, T'Pol, I'll trust you like…well, let's say a wife."

T'Pol blushed heavily now, spots on her cheeks as green as any Orion, head bowed and eyes averted in order to conceal her embarrassment, and Trip laughed out loud.

"Did you really marry me yesterday, T'Pol?"

"It- it- it doesn't mean anything without the rest of the ritual," said T'Pol, still staring at her bowl of rice pudding, cheeks still lit like a neon sign.

"It does to me," said Trip. "That you were moved to make such a gesture is enough."

They spoke then for the next twenty minutes, then Trip stood and said, "Take the Science station on the Bridge as your post, and don't annoy Shran."

"Yes, Captain," said T'Pol, still seated for she meant to finish her tea.

She was floating on a cloud after the captain's words. Something had indeed changed between them, had changed in the way the man saw her, and she was aware of it somehow even as he'd first entered the captain's mess, and that change was only confirmed by his kiss atop her head.

Trip's next stop was his cabin, where he spent the next hour virtually passing through the ship with the aid of the Tantalus Field. He'd taken to using it at random times to survey the mood of the crew, make certain that no one was planning anything stupid. And no one had… until now.

He'd been about to pack it up for the day, when he focused in on Crewman Tate and Lieutenant Nunez in the Mess Hall. Tate was Science, and Nunez in Command, though Nunez was pretty low on that totem pole as a mere lieutenant. Yet here they were, eating breakfast in an empty Mess Hall… so why the paranoid attitude as Tate passed something to Nunez? Trip zoomed in on them both, to listen to them speak.

"…that's all it will take," said Tate. "A scratch."

Nunez nodded his head and smiled grimly, then said, "And you're sure this compound will work on an Andorian?"

"I've chosen it precisely because it's so toxic to Andorians," said Tate. "He'll be dead long before Phlox gets his hands on him."

"Good," said Nunez. "Soon, the Andorian will be gone, and a true member of the crew drawn into a power position."

"Perhaps even you," said Tate.

"No, not yet," said Nunez. "I'm still a junior officer, but it will create a bit more room to maneuver for us all, and I intend to make use of the chaos to improve my position. I won't forget this, Tate."

"No problem," said Tate.

Trip frowned at that, and put the Tantalus Field away. There was no way he'd allow those two morons to kill the only man he fully trusted aboard this ship. He touched the Comm console on his desk and reached out to Lt. Reed.

"Yes, Captain," said Reed.

"Find Tate and Nunez," said Trip, "and take them to the Shuttle Bay under guard."

"Yes, Captain," said Reed.

He reached out to the Bridge next.

"Yes, Captain," said Shran.

"Take a break, Shran," said Trip. "Meet me in the Shuttle Bay."

"On my way," said Shran.

Minutes later, Trip entered the Shuttle Bay to find Tate and Nunez surrounded by four of Reed's men, and moments later Shran entered the Shuttle Bay to stand before Trip.

"What's going on?" said Shran, and he was not the only one curious: a dozen mechanics from this department were watching the unusual happenings on the floor, and Trip waved them over as well.

"These two fucks were planning to kill you, XO," said Trip to his Executive Officer, "by injecting you with a venom geared specifically for Andorian physiology."

"You don't say," said Shran, turning to look at Nunez and Tate, and given the Andorian's nasty look, Trip would not have wanted to be on the wrong side of it.

Certainly, Nunez and Tate did not: they were clearly shitting their pants.

"That's not true!" said Tate, and Nunez shook his head vigorously in agreement with Tate.

"Shut up!" said Reed, driving his fist into Tate, just hard enough to cause the man to fold over a bit.

"So what are we going to do about it?" said Shran.

"They want you dead, we're going to give them their chance," said Trip. "They have their daggers, you have your ushaan-tor. Make an example of them now, and forestall the next attempt on your life."

"The perfect solution, Captain," said Shran, clearly pleased by Trip's command decision.

"I've never seen Tate practice the blade," said Trip, "but Nunez likes to thrust at the eyes, then follow it up with an advance, and a thrust for the stomach, so watch for that. I know you don't need the help, but it can't hurt to know that."

"Right," said Shran, and then drew his ushaan-tor from it's sheath at his back, and faced the two men, the handheld axe head/pike combination looking decidedly deadly in his hand.

"We didn't do anthing, Captain," said Nunez. "We did not conspire to kill the XO. I don't know who told you that, but they're lying to you."

Trip looked at Tate and Nunez and said, "The only way you walk out of here alive is thorough the XO. That's it. So draw your fucking blades, and kill him. Now. Or I'll just have you both executed before I leave the Shuttle Bay."

Tate was still terrified, but Nunez had his mind in the game, and drew his blade.

"Tate!" said Nunez. "Get it together man! Come on!"

Tate drew his dagger, and approached Shran from the left, while Nunez took the right, Shran waiting on them patiently, and seemingly quite bored.

Nunez made the first move, closing distance with Shran and thrusting at the Andorian's torso, in order to drive him towards Tate, and give Tate an opening, but Tate was useless, and did nothing but back away from Shran. In his turn, Shran rushed Nunez who jumped back, then Shran spun and rushed on Tate, the Human panicking and taking Shran's ushaan-tor to the side of his head for his trouble. Just about any head wound could be incapacitating, and given the fact that Shran had driven the spike end of his ushaan-tor three inches into Tate's head, well with that move, Tate was out of the game and bleeding his life's blood onto the deck.

Nunez did a good job of controlling his disappointment at theoretically losing half of his advantage over the Andorian, and closed with Shran once more, intending to kill him swiftly, and make a statement in the process. He and Shran feinted a dozen times while advancing or retreating, and then Nunez committed himself to a direct lunge at Shran's eyes, just as Trip had predicted. Shran withdrew his head a bit, but not his torso, and Nunez thrust at Shran's midsection. Shran grabbed Nunez's right hand which held the blade, and twisted it upwards, bringing the soft underside of Nunez's forearm to a vertical position, which only facilitated the motion of Shran running his ushaan-tor's blade upwards, cutting to the bone of Nunez's arm. From there, it was only a moments before Shran brought the raised blade across Nunez's throat, severing the Human's left internal and external jugular veins as well as the left common carotid artery, the result being a spray of red blood across the Andorian's face to match a Jackson Pollock painting. Shran allowed Nunez to fall to the floor and then bent down to wipe the blood off his ushaan-tor on the man's chest.

"Get rid of this garbage," said Trip, looking at Lt. Reed, and the man snapped his fingers, which put his men in motion, and dispersed the Shuttle Bay's crew back to their assigned task, chatting excitedly about what they'd seen.

"Well done, Shran. Word of how quickly you dispatched these two fools will spread before the end of the shift," said Trip, "which will give pause to anyone else considering moving against you."

Shran nodded, and smiled, pleased at the chance to deal with his hopeful assassins in an open handed manner.

"Go clean up, and take the rest of the day off," said Trip. "I'll take the Bridge."

"All right," said Shran, and Trip made way for the Bridge.

Once on the Bridge, he made brief eye contact with T'Pol, the looked at the Helmsman, and said, "Set course for the Empire at best speed."

Most of the faces on the Bridge turned towards Trip. They all knew what that meant.

"Yes, Captain," said the Helmsman. "Setting course for the Empire. At this speed and heading we will reach the Empire in five days, fourteen hours."

Five days, fourteen hours to reach Andoria, another four days to reach Earth. Good enough. Trip nodded and took the captain's chair for a bit, but he felt T'Pol's eyes on him the entire time. When he'd had enough of that he headed for his Ready Room, and to his surprise, she followed him.

"What's on your mind, T'Pol?" said Trip.

She said nothing in answer to the captain's question, just watched him for a few moments, then began unwrapping her skin tight uniform. Seeing that Trip began doing the same.


	17. Chapter 17

— **Chapter 17—**

The Empress sat in meeting with Admiral Gardner.

"The reports all along the Eastern Border are the same, Majesty. The Romulans and the Klingons are testing our defenses everywhere. They've worked together in the past, and they're working together now. They're aware that we've stripped the border in order to prepare a defense net for the Defiant, and they mean to rush us eventually, at our weakest moment. At the very least, we'll lose the Eastern half of the Empire to them, perhaps all the way up to Alpha Centauri, and that's presuming they don't come all the way to Earth, and split the Terran Empire between them both."

"Let those jackals do their thing," said the Empress. "We'll lose a number of ships to the Defiant, but we'll win in the end, and then we'll take back our territory from the Romulans and the Klingons in a matter of months at best, years at worst, but we will drive them back as the new tech advancements I've brought work their way through our shipyards and onto our new ships. And then we'll take the war to their territory and exact a bitter vengeance."

"Yes, Majesty," said Gardner, fearing that it would be harder to turn back an combined Romulan/Klingon armada than the Empress imagined: worse still, the Empress had begun to act a bit impulsive lately, or perhaps erratic would be a more accurate word for her actions. "If you say so."

"I do."

"Some good news. Our third rail gun is up and functional in orbit," said Gardner, speaking of the giant guns that could tear up an enemy fleet, quite easily, "so that's something to celebrate."

"The celebrations will be held when Captain Tucker is dead and the Defiant is back in my hands," said the Empress, "and not before."

"Of course, Majesty."

* * *

"You asked to see me, Captain?" said Lt. Reed, entering the captain's Ready Room a few hours after Shran had dispatched Tate and Nunez.

"I did," said Trip, coming round the desk and after a few moments of fiddling around, fastened the insignia of a Lt. Commander to Reeds collar. "You and your team did well in the Green Belt, Lt. Commander Reed. Continue to prove your worth to me, and you'll make Commander soon enough. I expect you'll have to work hard to prove yourself to your equals and superiors, but I know that you're more than capable of doing just that."

"Yes, Captain," said Reed, face flushed with excitement: in the normal course of events he would have needed another year at least to make Lt. Commander, and then five years more to make full commander. "Thank you."

"We'll take five days to reach Andoria, another four days or so to reach Earth," said Trip, "and in that time I want you and Lee to get together and discuss ship's security. You outrank him now, but he's good at what he does, so let him be responsible for ship's security, let him hold the line, while you and your team will serve as a rapid response unit to aid security in repelling boarders, if it comes to that. I want your plans to move your teams about the ship in response to Lee's hails for assistance. Tell me which hallways you need cleared, and consider using the transporter to help you in the process of moving your men about the ship, if you think it practical. Make certain that all vulnerable points are well protected between your men and Lee's. I want to see you and Lee in three days with your plans, and I want to be impressed, Lt. Commander Reed."

"Yes, Captain," said the newly frocked Lt. Commander Reed, and shortly after that Trip dismissed him, in favor of reading a virtual stack of Readiness Reports on is PADD unit.

An hour of that crap, than after a few moments of thought and Trip touched the comm unit built into his desk in order to interrogate the computer on Okram's location: the computer reported the location of the Botha's particular translator unit, and responded with, 'Rec Room 1'.

Trip stepped onto the Bridge, looked at T'Pol, and said, "Take the conn."

"Yes, Captain," said T'Pol, pleased at the trust the man was showing towards her.

In truth it was no risk leaving her in charge. He still had the computer core shut down, and with the aid of the bracelet Trip could access the computer and control the ship from practically any location of the ship, but then T'Pol was unaware of the artifact which Trip had found in the belly of the Defiant. Speaking of artifacts, Trip reached Recreation Room 1 and located Okram in short order watching two crewmen play pool. Trip gained the Botha's attention and Okram approached Trip with a smile.

"May I be of service to you, Captain?"

"Come with me, Okram," said Trip. "I could use your assistance."

"Certainly," said Okram, and Trip led the Botha to the transporter pads.

Although the computer of this ship was capable of transporting things and people about the ship without the use of the transporter pad for such short distances, Trip did not believe that this ability was widely known, so he gestured that the Botha should take to one of the pads, while he fiddled with the controls. He wasn't actually doing anything with them, for it was easier for him to instruct the computer through the bracelet to transport them to the Holding Locker and then make periodic contact with the bracelet every five minutes for their return transport, than to actually punch in all those instructions. That done, Trip took another pad, and moments later they were both in the Holding Locker. Okram looked around curiously, his attentions drawn by some of the items in the locker, all but ignoring Trip for now, with Trip silently letting Okram go about his business.

"Feel anything, Okram?"

"Five of these items are psionic, Captain," said Okram.

Trip's research had taught Trip of three of these items, and given him clues about the use of one of the items, but Okram might do better here.

"Which of these items," said Trip. "Point them out to me."

Okram pointed out the five foot tall pyramid made of transparent jade, the glossy black metal ball with the flattened base, two foot high statues and what seemed to be be a plain copper cube with strange designs carved into the surface.

"Can you tell their functions?" said Trip.

"Three of them," said Okram, and pointed first at the glossy black metal ball. "That is a nasty thing, which can burn out psionic talents from a psychic. That's bad enough as it is, but if you killed someone with it by continuing your psychic assault long enough it would unravel the essence of a being. Essentially, it would destroy the soul of your target."

"So it's an assassin's weapon?"

"No, much nastier," said Okram. "An assassin can only take your life, not destroy your soul, Captain. This nasty bit of work removes you from the Cycle, forever more. I hope you'll destroy it, Captain."

"And the other two items?"

"That pyramid is a power extender, a communication relay if you will," said Okram. "Although telepathic communication theoretically has no limits, in practicality, an organic being is hampered by the limitations of his physical system. Long range telepathic communication stresses the body greatly. With the aid of this device to boost one's psionic signal, one could reach far, very far, quite quickly, and so eliminate the bodily pressures of trying to make contact for hours and hours."

"Could you use it to reach your people?"

"I don't know. Perhaps," said Okram, "though I don't know what good that would do me. If they came for me I would simply be luring my people into another Orion ambush."

"Sure, now," said Trip, "but if I take the crown, I intend to hammer the Orions remorselessly. I think that there are a great many worlds inside the Green Belt which would willingly join the Empire, in return for protection from the Orions. In any case, it would be a trivial matter to push the Orions back from the wormhole long enough to allow your people to collect you."

Okram looked excited at the possibility, then said, "Yes. I see. Perhaps when you make Emperor and expand into this region you will allow me to make attempt to contact my people using this device."

Trip nodded his agreement with the Botha's plan, and said, "And the third item?"

Okram pointed out one of the statues, and said, "That item enriches the psionic field somehow. As you are surely aware, extended psychic powers use drains the mind, necessitating a period of rest and relaxation to essentially recharge one's batteries. That item recharges a psychic's batteries faster, probably within an hour, versus ten, twenty hours it might otherwise require."

"And the other two items?" said Trip.

"I am not certain," said Okram, "though I can feel their potency. Learning more would require that I handle them, study them, and I would not wish to be reckless in that process, given that I know nothing about them. Better leave them alone for now, try to learn of them through research. To try and make use of these items without proper knowledge would be reckless."

Trip smiled at that, and picked up the statue which recharged a psion's 'batteries' and handed it to Okram.

"This would do better in your care," said Trip, after a moment's consideration: sure Okram could be lying and he could be handing the Botha a weapon, but he had a feeling about the alien, and Okram had acted honorably since he'd met him.

"Gratitude, Captain," said Okram, holding the statue close to his body, obviously pleased by the captain's gift.

Trip felt the computer establishing a connection with the bracelet, and instructed it to beam them back onto the transporter pad.

"Keep your mouth shut about that place, Okram," said Trip once they found themselves back on the transporter pads.

"What place, Captain?" said Okram. "All I ever saw of it was the inside of that room."

"Even so, keep it zipped," said Trip, and Okram nodded agreeably with his instructions.

* * *

Trip stepped back into his Ready Room to find Shran comfortably seated there, feet propped up on his desk, and though Trip cut Shran a lot of slack given his trust in the Andorian, that desk was something special.

"Feet off the desktop, Blueskin, or I'm going to beat the shit out of you," said Trip, eliciting a laugh from Shran who was undoubtedly the superior unarmed combatant. "That's Zebrano wood there, Shran."

"Apologies," said Shran, promptly removing his feet from Trip's desk.

Trip took his chair across the desk from Shran, and said, "So why are you waiting here in ambush? You were supposed to take the rest of the day off."

"For what?" said Shran. "I didn't even break a sweat with those two fools. Come, let's have dinner."

"I've already invited Soval and T'Pol to the Captain's table," said Trip. "Join us."

"Vulcans," said Shran, condescension clear in his tone, amusement on his face. "Mind you, T'Pol has her… charms, but—"

"Are you joining us? Or not."

"No thanks," said Shran.

"Your call," said Trip. "But come to my quarters later this evening, and bring a bottle of Andorian ale."

Shran moved his head in that short, quick, owl-like movement that Andorians displayed at times, smirked and said, "Your quarters. Andorian ale. I don't know what you think will happen between us, Captain, but if you think that I'm—"

"Shut up fool," said Trip. "I have a gift for you."

"I bet you do," said Shran.

"Get out!" said Trip.

* * *

A few more hours of tedious reviews, and then Trip dined with Soval and T'Pol, and had a decent time of it, what with Soval being the interesting conversationalist, and T'Pol making sultry Vulcan eyes at him, presumably without Soval's knowledge, but on the way out the door, Soval grabbed hold of Trip.

"Bar your door this night, Captain," said Soval. "I recognize the look in T'Pol's eyes, from her mother's eyes. She means to divert your attention with some delightful games."

"I appreciate the warning, Soval," said Trip, "but I have other plans this night, and they do not include T'Pol."

Soval nodded, and the Vulcan left, though T'Pol was still seated at the captain's table when Trip turned round.

"Dinner's over, T'Pol," said Trip. "If you're expecting a show, you'll be disappointed."

"I thought perhaps we might take a pot of tea to my quarters and… talk, Captain."

"I've already promised Shran a bit of my time this evening," said Trip.

"I see," said T'Pol. "You don't mind if I lag behind in order to finish my tea?"

"Knock yourself out," said Trip and left the captain's mess with an amusing wave.

Ten minutes after he'd reached his quarters, a chime announced a visitor, and that visitor was Shran.

"I ran into T'Pol in the halls," said Shran, waving a bottle of chilled ale, "so I figured you'd need a drink to wash away the memories of dinner."

"You were right," said Trip, and laid out two shot glasses.

Shran filled the glasses, and they lifted them in an abbreviated salute.

"KashTria," said Shran, and Trip nodded before shooting the ale.

"Arrgghgh," said Trip, the ale setting a blaze burning all the way down his throat and to his stomach. "You could use this stuff to degrease engines."

"First shot's always like that, Trip," said Shran, his antennas still spinning as he refilled their glasses, "while the second is as smooth as silk."

Trip nodded, raised his glass, and said, "KashTria."

They took that second shot, then two more, and they were both feeling good, given the potency of Andorian ale.

"So why did you want to see me?" said Shran.

Trip stood and walked over to an old coffee can, and dumped out the metallic-blue blob he'd brought from the Holding Locker.

"What is that?" said Shran, curious now.

"A combination EV suit and body armor," said Trip, and then spent the next few minutes showing Trip how it worked, and how to manipulate the suit.

"That's interesting," said Shran.

"It's yours," said Trip. "I want you to wear it in the body armor configuration mode from now on, in case there are more Tate and Nunez types waiting to pounce on you."

"You should keep it," said Shran. "You're the bigger target."

"I've got the entire crew by the balls for now," said Trip. "You know what happens if I don't check in periodically to disarm the self-destruct mechanism, and so does the crew."

"But still…"

"Just keep it, Shran," said Trip, and handed Shran the coffee can, "and wear it when outside your quarters. At least protect your torso, if not your limbs."

"All right," said Shran. "Thanks."

Trip nodded, and then they turned their attention back to the ale, and after two hours of idle chatter, Shran bid his farewell and headed for his quarters, and soon after that the door's chime sounded once more.

"Shran you bastard," said Trip, "I swear if you're playing games with—"

But the door opened to reveal not Shran, but T'Pol, wearing a red silk robe.

"What is it, T'Pol?"

"May I come in for a minute, Captain?" said T'Pol. "I have some ship's business to discuss."

"We'll do it tomorrow, T'Pol," said Trip, making effort to close the cabin's door.

"I am afraid I must insist, Captain," said T'Pol, and pressed her body into the gap, and shortly after that she pushed her body against the captain's and wiggled her way into the room.

Trip sighed, and said, "T'Pol, Shran and I have just polished off a bottle of Andorian ale. I doubt I'll be any good for you tonight. I'm about to pass out."

"Let that be my concern, Captain," said T'Pol, who managed to help Trip get undressed and to his bunk before he passed out, and Trip's last thought was a blessing for Okram for immunizing him from T'Pol's mind games… well, supposedly.

I guess I'll find out about that in the morning, and if T'Pol turns me into her puppet during the night, I'll have some words with that damned Botha.

Trip slept then, until he woke up sometime shortly after 4 o'clock in the morning. He stirred then, and would have gotten up, but he felt T'Pol's body pressed against his now, and didn't want to wake her, and shortly afterwards he fell asleep once more. He slowly woke again an hour later, when he felt someone's hand working on his junk, and Trip desperately hoped that wasn't Shran at work, a bit confused now in his sleepy state. He opened his eyes, and saw T'Pol resting on her side, head propped on one hand, a slight smile on her face. Trip sighed with relief.

"We have an hour to kill before we must begin getting ready for the upcoming day," said T'Pol. "Perhaps you'd care to play some secret Vulcan games, Captain?"

As it was, T'Pol's supple hands and gentle grip robbed Trip of the option of saying 'No', so Trip flipped the blanket aside, and said, "Sure. Let's play."

* * *

The next four days were spent evenly divided between attending to ship's duties and making sure everything was up to standard, and socializing, as there truly wasn't all that much to do: the Defiant's time in the Green Belt had polished the crew. They were ready now, for what they all knew was coming soon.

It was late on the fifth day that Trip walked onto the Defiant's Bridge in order to take a quick look around. The Acting Captain of the night shift made ready to stand, but Trip waved him off in order to allow the man to keep his seat.

"Everything ok here?"

"Yes, Captain. We're twelve hours from Andoria."

"Good," said Trip. "See you in the morning."

* * *

Sure enough, the Defiant reached the Andorian sector 11.8 hours later, only to be met by an Andorian fleet, seventy ships strong.


	18. Chapter 18

— **Chapter 18—**

The highly magnified view of the Andorian fleet was quite impressive even at this distance, as the Defiant had dropped out of warp many times outside the effective weapons range of the Andorians, in order that Trip might assess the situation.

"Captain?" said the Helm officer.

"Head directly towards the Andorian fleet at one tenth impulse," said Trip in response to Helm, then turned to look at Tactical. "Set Condition Red throughout the ship."

The klaxons sounded aboard the Defiant and crewmen rushed to their stations in response to that alarm, each and every one of them prepared to do their duty in defense of the ship.

Trip felt a strange sensation then, a tension in his mind, and he knew it came from T'Pol. Knowing as he did about their connection due to Okram's handywork, Trip was not as surprised to feel her presence in his mind as he might otherwise have been, and given the frequent battles and skirmishes between the Vulcans and the Andorians before the Terran Empire subjugated them both, T'Pol had just cause to tense up at the sight of so many Andorian ships.

A idea occurred to Trip just then, and he projected the thought 'Report!' to T'Pol along this line connecting them.

"Neither their shields, nor their weapons are powered, Captain," said T'Pol, then a moment later looked oddly at Trip, and she then shook her head, as if chiding herself.

"Captain," said the Tactical officer filling in for Lee, who was making certain that his men were ready to repel boarders if necessary. "I suggest we power shields and weapons. The Andorians will understand our actions, given the discrepancy in our numbers."

"Not unless they power up their weapons," said Trip, after a moment's thought. "Stand by."

It took the Defiant 5.2 minutes to close with the Andorian fleet, and they came to a halt some four thousand kilometers from the lead ships.

Shran looked at the Andorian ships, and said, "Take note of the unusual battlecruiser to the middle of the screen, Captain."

"I see it," said Trip, noting that although the majority of the Andorian ships were that same shade of pale ice blue, one which stood at the front and stood out from the rest, was a darker shade of royal blue and decorated with an orange stripe running along the left side of the ship. "What about it?"

"That is the Tulludon, Captain, the Zhael's personal ship," said Shran, "and if he stands against you, I am honor bound to try to kill you."

On hearing that two of the four Security officers stationed on the Bridge stood between Trip and Shran, phaser rifles on high, as the other two officers stood to the left side of Shran. Trip and Shran locked eyes and Trip nodded, understanding the difficult position Shran was placed in by these developments and seeing the Andorian's personal loyalty to him expressed in the warning: knowing Shran he'd rather get shot, then kill his friend.

"Lower your rifles, and set them on stun while you're at it," said Trip, and the Security team did so with the mere press of a button, without slackening their focus on Shran. "Shran go to my Ready Room, and stay off the Comm feed. Come out onto the Bridge when I buzz you."

Shran nodded and shrugged his shoulders as if to apologize as he made way for the Ready Room, but Trip reached out to Shran and grasped forearms with the Andorian in order to assure him that all was well between them. Duty sometimes demanded some hellish sacrifices. Moments later the Comm officer spoke.

"We're being hailed, Captain."

"Put it up," said Trip, and the Bridge of the Illizar was displayed on the Defiant's Bridge monitor, the Zhael centered in that video screen.

"Zhael," said Trip. "An unexpected pleasure."

"It is a pleasure, Captain Tucker," said the Zhael. "Admiral Idilen tells me you have some fine bourbon on your ship, and a tastefully decorated lounge in which to drink it."

"You're welcome to come aboard and sample it to your heart's delight, Zhael," said Trip. "Or I could see some delivered to you."

"I will come," said the Zhael, and Trip saw the Zhael's words for what they were: a guarantee of truce, for no Andorian would dream of firing upon the Defiant while the Zhael was aboard that ship.

Minutes later a shuttle departed the Tulludon, and the Tactical officer said, "Ten Andorians on board, no energy weapons, no radiological weapons, Captain."

Trip figured it out quickly: there was no foul play here, or rather, the odds were steeply against treachery. One Andorian was the pilot, one the Zhael, and the other eight were bodyguards, which was a matter of face with someone of the Zhael's rank. Although it was possible that the Andorians had some chemically powered weapons about their persons, similar to Human firearms, Trip was willing to risk it. The Zhael would have to be a fool to try anything.

Trip reached out to Lt. Commander Reed.

"Yes, Captain," said Reed.

"I want you and three other men in the Officer's lounge," said Trip. "Concealed phaser pistols, no rifles. All of you, be discreet and be polite. You're just there to enjoy a drink."

"Yes, Captain," said Reed.

Trip reached out to Lee next.

"Yes, Captain," said Lee.

"We're about to admit ten Andorians to the ship," said Trip. "Be prepared for trouble, but be discreet. I don't want to insult our guests, and I have no reason to expect trouble. Just be ready in case you get the call. Secure the Shuttle Bay, and then stand ready to secure the ship."

"Will do, sir," said Lee.

Trip reached out to Chef next.

"Yes, Captain," said Chef.

"Same drill as before," said Trip. "I want ten cases of our best bourbon delivered to the Shuttle Bay, and loaded aboard the Andorian shuttle."

"Yes, Captain."

Trip looked about the Bridge then, and buzzed Shran, that he should come out of the Ready Room, then noted that Soval had come on the Bridge.

"Soval," said Trip, "take T'Pol's station. T'Pol take the conn."

Both Vulcans moved for their assigned stations without comment, and Trip turned to face Shran as the Andorian entered the Bridge.

"What's up?" said Shran.

"We're having a drink with the Zhael," said Trip. "Come on."

Shran indicated that Trip should lead the way, and things took a similar course as with Admiral Idilen. Trip met the Zhael in the Shuttle Bay, guided the Andorian and his eight guards to the lounge, where these guards spread about the room, fully aware that Reed and his men were of similar vocation, and armed, but appreciating the trouble they'd gone through to be discreet, and so, polite.

In short order Trip sat with the Zhael, a glass of bourbon in front of each man, a bottle between them, and soon after Trip poured bourbon for them both, while Shran stood at attention a bit behind and to Trip's left side, after having saluted the Zhael. True, if the Zhael ordered it, Shran would be honor bound to strike Trip from that advantageous position, but Trip knew that if that happened, the Zhael would die aboard the Defiant, so he was willing to take that chance.

"I see that you wear my dagger," said the Zhael, who had noted that the Human captain was wearing the dagger which he'd given him on his previous visit to Andoria.

"And why not?" said Trip. "It's a beautiful blade, functional and deadly in equal measure, given me by the Andorian Emperor himself, no matter what name political necessities have forced upon you, Zhael."

The Zhael nodded sagely, and studied this man who was unlike the typical Imperial representative in so many ways, most refreshingly in his forthrightness.

"So, Captain Tucker," said the Zhael, "I imagine that you are curious as to why I am here."

"I suspect that you're here to bid for alliance, which is why you've gathered your fleet," said Trip, watching the Zhael intently, "or at the very least offer neutrality, else you'd have just attacked my ship directly. What I'd like to know is why?"

The Zhael grinned, and said, "You're right, Captain Tucker. I come to offer my aid. As to why? You came to Andoria to ask favor of me and you paid your respects in the process, and then, when the Empress Sato's representatives were spotted en route to Andoria, you were discreet and wished to spare me any difficulties. In contrast, the Empress' envoys were quite liberal with both their bribes, and their threats."

Trip smiled at that, and shook his head in disbelief. Most Andorians would at least consider bribes, but it was a mistake to try and frighten them, as threats were almost a guarantee that the Andorians would just harden their hearts, and cause them to view the one making threats as a fool, or worse, an enemy.

The Zhael noted Trip's reaction, and said, "You understand Andorians quite well, don't you, Captain?"

"Thanks to Shran, Zhael," said Trip. "Who was the Empress' chief envoy?"

"Tarkel Samuels."

"Ah," said Trip. "That explains it. Samuels is a respected envoy, though most of his experience is with Klingons, and as you know, Klingons throw bribes and threats around quite liberally, and they're meant to be taken with a grain of salt."

"We are not Klingons, Captain," said the Zhael and Trip nodded agreeably as the Zhael took another sip of his bourbon. "So, we set course for Earth, Captain Tucker?"

A moment's silence, then Trip spoke.

"Let's wait a bit, Zhael. With your permission, my Executive Officer will see his love and his child before we depart Andoria," said Trip, turning his head slightly to indicate Shran, and that Andorian gasped slightly.

The Zhael looked at Shran, and though he'd been angry with the man, circumstances had changed and it was clear that Shran was well regarded by Captain Tucker.

"Take a shuttle to my palace in He'bral," said the Zhael. "You will find Lidia and your child there. I'll have one of my men here call in and see that you're taken to her upon landing."

"I am grateful, Zhael," said Shran, then looked at Trip.

"Go now," said Trip.

"Yes, Captain."

"Will you lunch with me, Zhael?" said Trip once Shran had left the room. "I know you've never visited Earth, but we have an excellent chef, and he's familiar with the Andorian palate."

"I'd like that, Captain Tucker."

* * *

The Defiant's shuttle drew close to the surface ice pack of Andoria and then plunged beneath the ice pack through a large tunnel carved through the mile deep ice shelf at a moderate angle. It took less than a minute to fly beneath the ice pack, and then the shuttle leveled out and traveled 5.4 kilometers before coming to a soft landing in front of the Zhael's palace at He'bral. Shran gave his thanks to the shuttle pilot and exited the vehicle to find himself under the mile high blue dome ceiling formed of the ice pack under which the shuttle had just flown, and then walked for the entrance way situated just a hundred meters from the landing pad, only to be met there by one of the palace guards.

"I'm Commander Shran," said Shran. "The Zhael said I'd be permitted to see the Lady Yir'tekan."

"Yes, Commander," said the guard. "This way."

Shran passed through the Zhael's palace, yet he had no eyes for the beauty and the elegance within, and the trip to Lidia's quarters seemed to take forever, but eventually the guard stopped and gestured towards a large door some twenty feet away.

"Through those doors, Commander," said the Guard. "The Lady Yir'tekan is expecting you."

Shran moved for the door, breathed deeply, and then stepped inside the private apartment, to be greeted by the sight of Lidia seated on the plush carpet, trying to wrangle a little cap onto her son's head… his son. Lidia brightened the moment she saw Shran. She laid the cap aside in order to rise and rush to Shran's arms. In other circumstances Shran could have taken hours to savor that kiss, but he had to see his son now, and Lidia understood.

"I named him Hemli," said Lidia, "since I couldn't consult with you. You can still change it if you like, Shran, as he hasn't undergone his naming ceremony yet."

"Hemli is a fine name, Lidia," said Shran, picking up the Andorian baby, and laughing at the child's smile and strong grasp on his left antenna.

They ate an early dinner then on the carpet with little Hemli watching them both, and after a few hours of that Lidia managed to tempt Shran to her bedroom, under the pretense that Hemli needed his rest.

* * *

"No, no, no!" said the Empress, throwing the wine bottle at the steward's head, which only caused it to shatter when it missed the head, and struck the wall. "I said LeCraff yes, but I obviously meant the 2190, not the 2212!"

"Apologies, Empress," said the steward and backed from the room quickly.

"Empress," said Commander Mayweather, truly concerned now, for the Empress' moods had become so volatile of late due to the stresses this entire situation with the Defiant had caused her: he'd kill Tucker if he ever got his hands on the man, in order to present the Empress with the man's corpse.

"Empress," said Commander Mayweather, "you must control yourself."

"Don't tell me what to do," said the Empress, her eyes cold.

"You were fortunate that you only lost your temper with a member of the hotel's staff," said Commander Mayweather, "but if you'd done the same with members of the Admiralty or the Imperial Court, they would then presume that you are worried about Tucker and the Defiant."

"I am worried about them you idiot!" said the Empress. "I just want this entire fiasco over and done with. I need to win, and win decisively here, in order to cement my grip on the crown."

"And we will, Empress, but you can not show any anxiety, Empress," said Commander Mayweather and left it at that, but the Empress was quick witted enough to grasp the man's point.

She breathed deeply, and said, "You're right, Travis. I apologize for losing my temper."

Commander Mayweather waved it off, and said, "We'll finish it soon, and then your rule will be secure."

The Empress drew comfort from the commander's confidence and said, "You're right, Travis. Come, let's go to bed."

* * *

It was 5am by ship's time when the chime in Trip's cabin awoke the man. What the hell? thought Trip. His alarm clock said he still had an hour's sleep. The night light came on as Trip stepped onto the floor and headed for the door, cracking it slightly while squinting against the bright light in the hall.

"Shran?" said Trip. "What the hell is going on?"

"I just boarded the Defiant. I came to thank you for what you did for me with the Zhael," said Shran, his face animated. "Let me in, I want to show you something."

"Now?" said Trip.

"Yes," said Shran, pushing against the door while holding an insulated stainless steel coffee pot in one hand, and two coffee cups in the other. "Let me in."

Trip sighed, and let Shran set the coffee and cups on his desk. A soft groan from the bunk alerted Shran that someone was sharing the captain's bed, but the captain's companion had a pillow over her head.

"Morning, T'Pol," said Shran, and the partly sleeping figure mumbled something.

"Let her sleep, Shran," said Trip, handing the Andorian a coffee cup. "Now, what do you have to show me."

The minutes passed and despite the fact that the two men were being considerate, their soft voices and chuckles drew T'Pol's attention eventually, and she peeked through the blankets to see Shran and Trip, focusing on a series of foot high 3D holo-images displayed by Shran's 3D-Cam. The images showed a young Andorian woman, quite lovely, and in some of those images she was holding an Andorian baby of exceeding cuteness whose features were already composed into what seemed to T'Pol to be a perfect copy of his father's mix of condescension, guile and amused mastery, though of course that was ridiculous… wasn't it? The holo-images kept cycling every three seconds, for Shran had taken quite a few images of Lidia and his child. More interesting still, to T'Pol at least, was noting how intently both men focused on the images, laughing softly as they sipped coffee between the images, and T'Pol knew that neither man would ever have to worry about one betraying the other. They were something rare in this universe: they were true friends.

* * *

Hours later, Trip entered the Bridge to relieve the night shift's Acting Captain, and looked round the Bridge.

"Comm, hail the Tulludon," said Trip, referring to the Zhael's personal ship.

Moments later the Zhael's image was displayed on the Defiant's Bridge monitor, and the Zhael said, "Good morning, Captain Tucker."

"Good morning, Zhael," said Trip, noting that he Andorian was in his Ready Room, presumably having gotten an earlier start than Trip himself.

"You've collected your XO, Captain?" said the Zhael.

"I have, and I've never seen him so happy," said Trip. "I'm certain that he'll wish to express his gratitude to you once more at the earliest opportunity, for allowing him to reconnect with Lidia and his child."

The Zhael smirked, and said, "That Andorian bastard should be happy, Captain. By sanctioning that union, I've made Shran a distant relative of mine."

Trip laughed at that, and said, "In that case I must apologize, Zhael. It's true that Shran can be a bit much at times, but he's a good man."

"Spare me, Captain. I'm still a bit sore over the matter, but I'll get over it," said the Zhael, seeing humor in the whole thing now. "So, are we ready to write history?"

"That we are, Zhael," said Trip. "We've got four days to discuss strategy, though we'll no doubt have to modify our plans when we draw closer to Earth. Our sensors are superior to yours, so the Defiant will scout the Empress' defenses before we join battle."

"Well enough, Captain. Choose your course, and then transmit it to my fleet, Captain," said the Zhael. "We wait your mark."

Minutes later, course coordinates were transmitted fleet wide, and the Defiant warped out of the Andorian system at warp 5, in consideration of the slower Andorian ships, which followed the Defiant. They were all headed for Earth.


	19. Chapter 19

— **Chapter 19—**

T'Pol fidgeted in the captain's chair on the Bridge, but that was understandable enough given that she'd been manning the conn for nine hours now as the fleet cruised towards Earth. Meanwhile, Shran had spent the same amount of time in the captain's Ready Room, reviewing readiness reports and giving orders in response to those reports, a fact which begged the question: where was Captain Tucker, and what was he doing that could possibly be more important than preparing for the battle ahead?

T'Pol had always fancied herself to be an accurate reader of the captain's moods, but she was frustrated and confused on that end now. On the one hand, he could be frustratingly difficult to read on most every aspect of interest, yet here and there he was crystal clear, so much so that T'Pol imagined that she could almost hear the man's thoughts running through his head.

T'Pol tapped a brief sequence of keys on the chair's embedded keyboard, and the captain's location popped up on the small video screen built into the chair's hand rest. The captain was in his quarters.

Really? thought T'Pol. She'd seen the night before that the man had ripped out a number of the data cables from the wall, and when questioned about it the captain told her that he meant to put a large video monitor there, in his quarters. T'Pol thought the entire matter a stupid diversion: the captain should be focusing on more important things at the moment, but when she'd mentioned that to the man, he'd sent her away and back to her quarters, a fact which had displeased T'Pol.

If he can not focus properly on the matter at hand, thought T'Pol, he will kill us all.

* * *

For his part Trip had just concealed and then sealed the Tantalus Field device into the wall, after splicing the data cables and including the Tantalus device into the ship's data network using a custom adapter he'd fashioned himself during yesterday's night watch. He then returned the steel wall panel to it's proper slot and screwed it in securely into its slot, then bolted the high quality, large, video monitor to that wall, completing his task. Now to test his handy-work.

He brought the bracelet close to the Comm unit and therefore the data cables running through the unit, and instructed the computer core to take no official notice of the newest node he'd just added to the data system. Further, he instructed the core not to reveal that node's presence under any diagnostic tests, and alert him to any high level scans of the data network architecture, just in case he needed to intervene and divert any unusual interest in the device, using the bracelet. Next, Trip reached out to T'Pol.

"T'Pol," said Trip.

"Yes, Captain."

"I'll be conducting some sensor drills in a bit," said Trip, "so notify Tactical to disregard any anomalies, and inform the Andorians that I'll be pinging their ships in order to fine tune the sensor systems."

"Understood," said T'Pol, glad that the man was getting his head back in the game, and did as ordered.

Trip used the bracelet once again and instructed the computer to report his location to be in the computer core's data room, then reached out through the data cables to the Tantalus Field device. A few seconds instruction and he'd secured access to that device through use of the bracelet alone so long as the device was patched into the data network architecture.

Five minutes later, Trip activated the sensors and began manipulating the link between the sensors and the Tantalus Field, while T'Pol followed the sensor sweeps from her station on the Bridge out of curiosity, and she noted that the Defiant's sensors swept the interior of the ship, then swept across the entire Andorian fleet, then beyond, above, below, ahead, and all around the Defiant, just as the captain had said. Well enough.

Trials completed, Trip was quite pleased by the results of his experiment. By splicing the Tantalus Field device into the data network architecture and making use of the sensor nets, he had extended the device's reach to some 4.5 million kilometers, which was more than enough to cover the typical distances in which modern space combat took place. Better yet, manipulating the Tantalus Field through the bracelet was orders of magnitude faster than doing so manually, and moreso, he could access it's powers from any data cable on the ship, and utilize the sensor data in it's raw form, rather than having to use the little screen on the briefcase device.

Satisfied, Trip headed for the Mess Hall and picked up a hot tea in a go-cup. He dropped the tea off with T'Pol, then made his way to the Ready Room, to find Shran sitting in his chair, which was acceptable given that the Andorian was taking care of ship's business in order that Trip might screw around with the Tantalus Field.

"How are we looking?" said Trip, fishing out a bottle of Andorian ale and two shot glasses from a cabinet, then pouring two shot glasses full of Andorian ale.

"Looking good," said Shran, antennas drooping: he'd been at this tedious chore for most of the day. "So where the hell have you been all day?"

"Fine tuning the sensors," said Trip, and they both took a shot, and then another, and then one more.

Shran nodded agreeably, and said, "That's good ale. Now, since you're here, help me with the rest of these. I only have five more reports to read."

"Yeah, let's do it," said Trip, and twenty minutes later they were done.

"I'm off to bed," said Shran. "What about you?"

"I'm going to take a shower, and then I need something sweet from the Mess Hall. Come on, I'll walk with you, Shran."

T'Pol watched the captain walk off the Bridge with Shran, sighed, and then promptly began brooding. It had been a boring shift, that much was true, but a hot shower and a tasty treat eaten in the captain's bunk in preparation for a bit of play sounded a proper way to close out the day, and yet the man had not even had the decency to give her an inviting look before leaving the Bridge, and T'Pol was deeply disappointed by that fact, which begged the question: why? Why was she so disappointed?

She'd become more and more attracted to Captain Tucker since he'd taken over the Defiant, and a cynic could rightfully question the validity of her attraction. Yet, she'd grown unreasonably frustrated and angry when the man had rid himself of her and Soval not long ago, as casually as if dumping garbage over the Defiant's side, and she'd been quite intent to get back to the Defiant while stranded on Vulcan. In fact she'd been relieved when she'd made the Defiant once again, no matter that unpleasantness with nine hours of torture in the Agony Booth. And now, that she and the captain had grown closer together, she'd become so attuned to the man that it seemed sometimes that she could almost hear his thoughts, almost know what he was doing… right now, she imagined him showering under a hot water stream, and she could almost feel the water: her place was there. T'Pol began watching the clock, impatiently waiting for the night watch Acting Captain to relieve her of duty and free her to go about her business.

* * *

After showering, Trip headed for the Mess Hall in an old t-shirt and a pair of jeans. The Mess Hall was empty at this time, save for Soval sitting at a table and drinking some hot spiced cider. Trip nodded to the Vulcan and got a hot orange peel tea from the automated beverage dispenser and a slice of Red Velvet cake, and then headed towards the door, intending to snack in his room, but as he passed by Soval with a smile, the Vulcan cleared his throat and pushed one of the other chairs at his table out towards Trip with his foot. Trip took the hint and joined Soval.

"How are you tonight, Soval?"

"Quite well, Captain."

"I appreciate how helpful you've been since boarding the Defiant, Soval."

"It is nothing, Captain. Glad to be of help."

Trip nodded, took a bite of his cake, a sip of his tea, then looked thoughtfully at Soval, then said, "So, why did you come back here, Soval? I know why T'Pol came here, to torture me: she gets off on that. But why you?"

"I came to serve, Captain Tucker."

"Well," said Trip, "you did just that, Soval, but we'll be passing fairly close to Vulcan sometime tomorrow night by ship's time. That would be a good time for you and T'Pol to find your way back home. This isn't your fight."

Soval, who'd been about to take a sip of his drink, set his cup down, and said, "I disagree, Captain Tucker. In any case, I have no plans to leave your side, and I think you'll have to kill T'Pol to get rid of her."

"I could do that," said Trip thoughtfully, "couldn't I?"

In response to the captain's words, Soval looked skeptically at Trip and snorted quite openly in derision. Captain Tucker was just not the sort of man to casually take a life without purpose, which made him practically a humanitarian in this time and place.

* * *

The Vulcan High Command had been in meeting for the past eighteen hours, with only two brief breaks, and a decision was finally made by a majority vote, rather than full agreement. It was the Andorian fleet which accompanied the Defiant, with the Zhael leading the Andorians no less, which made all the difference to the High Command. They had been split until then, with Administrator V'Las advocating for a coming together with their Romulan cousins, Havrak and Lorot advocating for taking advantage of the situation and pushing for independence from the Terran Empire, and T'Lisse and Sefek advocating that Vulcan remain in the Terran Empire, but the sight of the Andorian fleet made it apparent that Captain Tucker had a greater chance to become Emperor than logic had dictated until then, and in that case he would be indebted to the Andorians… and with the Vulcans being tossed from the Terran Empire and the Emperor in debt to the Andorians, well, the Emperor might not particularly care either way if the Zhael declared war on Vulcan.

So, a decision was made to remain in the Terran Empire, and to prove Vulcan's loyalty to the Empire, which then called for another round of discussions on whether to support the Empress, or Captain Tucker, and if so why? Action had to follow that decision, as Vulcan then had to either prove loyalty to the Empress by attacking and harassing the enemy fleet all the way to Earth, or by contrast, the Vulcan fleet had to join Captain Tucker's cause, and persuade the man to accept their help, in return for a place in his Empire. Eventually, a decision was made, and the High Command instructed Admiral Tosek to take the Vulcan fleet and intercept the Defiant and the Andorian fleet.

* * *

Praetor Rhi'ell stood at the front of his fleet of Romulan warships, on the Bridge of his flagship, the LietTor, the Graceful Flier, and faced the Klingon general Moklor on the Bridge of his own flagship, the Klingon battleship Koloth, named after an imaginary sand dragon of Klingon myth. Together these two species had brought some six hundred ships, much more than a match for the two hundred ships the Terran Empress had assembled, and the smaller Andorian fleet making way for Earth even now, if the scout's reports were accurate.

"Hail the Koloth," said Rhi'ell to his communications officer, and a moment later the Klingon general's face was displayed on the Bridge monitor of the Romulan flagship.

"Well met, General Moklor," said Rhi'ell.

The Klingon nodded, and said, "It is good that our two peoples can meet in cooperation once again, Praetor."

"We all stand to profit by this venture, General," said Rhi'ell, "and I hope this will set a standard for our peoples to follow into a peaceful future between our two empires."

Moklor smiled, and said, "Than let us not waste any time, Praetor. Set the course and let us lead our men to glory, and honor."

* * *

As soon as she was relieved of her duty, T'Pol practically sprinted back to her quarters to shower and put on a fresh new uniform, which she hoped would soon be ripped from her flesh by Captain Tucker, yet when she buzzed his door, the man refused to answer her call. That was unusual, as her buzzing could be a matter of ship's business, a possibility Captain Tucker could not ignore, so… T'Pol stepped some ten feet to a wall mounted Comm unit, and reached out to the computer.

"Computer," said T'Pol, and the computer chimed in response. "Locate Captain Tucker."

"Captain Tucker is in the Forward Observation Deck."

T'Pol made her way there in a matter of minutes, and entered the large room which boasted an entire forward wall panel some 50ft wide by 20 feet high made of tempered glass, which allowed starlight to illuminate the room in beautiful streaks of light as the Defiant moved through space. Risan music was playing from the high quality speakers, and the combination of great acoustics and music joined with the hypnotizing patterns of star light was quite beautiful, and quite peaceful.

T'Pol picked out Captain Tucker easily, as he was here alone, and made her way to his side. He looked at her, but said nothing, and T'Pol took a seat to his left, curling up on the couch like a kitten, and pressing her body against the captain's. They sat there for a good while, and then T'Pol heard the captain's voice.

"So, why are you stalking me tonight, T'Pol?"

"I am not stalking you, Capt—" said T'Pol, then stopped speaking, stunned now: for his part, Captain Tucker looked surprised as well, though not as much as he should have seemed.

Captain Tucker had not spoken the words she'd heard. She'd had her hand on his chest, and her head resting on his shoulder, and she'd have surely noticed the man speaking. He was not a psychic either, so how?

"What is going on?" said T'Pol, pulling back a bit so that she could see the man's face clearly.

"You tell me," said Trip. "We were just relaxing to the music when you said, 'I am not stalking you, Capt—'."

"I heard your thought, Captain Tucker," said T'Pol.

"You sure about that?"

"Yes, Captain, I am quite certain that I heard your thought," said T'Pol. "Now, tell me, how that was possible?"

"You're the psychic," said Trip. "You tell me. Maybe you pulled that thought from my mind."

"I did not," said T'Pol. "If I wanted to do so, I would have touched the psi-points on your face and then made a deliberate effort to read your thoughts. I did not do any of that, and furthermore, the unbearably smug look on your face tells me that you know something about all this."

"If you really believe that our minds are connected," said Trip, once more in her mind, yet not physically, "why speak to me physically?"

T'Pol got the man's meaning, closed her eyes, turned her attention inward, and took notice of the state of her psyche. She'd felt something pressing her psyche the past few days or so, something insistent, something mysterious and somewhat scary, and she'd written it off as dread over the upcoming battle with the Empress, but now… There were two ways of interacting with one's psyche. The first, the best, was an abstract interaction of the will and the mind, but it was also the hardest method, used only by the mind priests and the unusually talented, but as for T'Pol, she relied on the second method which used the crutch of visualization.

She reached out for the tension in her psyche once again, and allowed her mind to freely associate and visualize an appropriate form for that tension, in order that she might interact with it, and was rewarded with the appearance of Captain Tucker in her mind's eye. He was facing her, but his head was bowed, his face hidden, and he seemed unaware of her presence, for he would not respond to her voice. T'Pol then reached out to Captain Tucker and touched his left arm, in order to draw his attention. He did not respond, but when she pulled back her hand, a blue strap which matched his uniform came with her hand, seemingly attached by glue. She reached over with her other hand to pry the strap loose, and in return another blue strap came out of the first, and now both hands were attached to the man, and all that T'Pol did to free herself only served to attach more straps to her, and then Captain Tucker looked up at T'Pol, and smiled. His eyes were completely focused on her to the exclusion of all else, and his smile was that of a cat who had captured a juicy mouse in its paws…

And then the straps began moving of their own accord, or perhaps at Captain Tucker's command, moving in ways which could only be possible on the mental plane, and T'Pol felt one strap wind tightly round her ankles, as another wound itself over her calves and round her knees and then up her thighs, while another strap worked it's way from behind to pull T'Pol's hands behind her back and then restrain them, and finally the straps interlaced and tensed behind her back, all interconnected, to force T'Pol to her knees before the captain, and T'Pol realized in that moment what had been done to her, and why. Well, this all seems fair enough, thought T'Pol ironically. The captain squatted down to one knee and looked her in the eyes, an amused look on his face.

"You know what this means, T'Pol?" said the captain's visualized form, speaking for the man's psyche.

T'Pol intended to speak truth and say, 'It means that I belong to you,' but something devilish inside the Vulcan opted for the tart mental reply, of, "It means that you can no longer get rid of me, no matter how hard you try, Captain. Congratulations… I guess? You win?"

"Do I?" said Trip with a smile, answering her questions with his own, and T'Pol raised brow at that, no matter that she was the one questioning such things to begin with.

T'Pol came back to herself then, to her body that is, and looked at Captain Tucker with wonder in her eyes, and shortly after that, T'Pol found herself stripped of her clothing and pressed against tempered glass for the second time since boarding the Defiant, her face contorted as a result of Captain Tucker's will, but this time in pleasure, rather than the pain of the Agony Booth.

* * *

***K, in your review you say: "Also cute to see T'Pol is clueless about her Bond with Trip", but remember that earlier in my story I've established that Vulcans don't Bond in this MU, so poor T'Pol has no chance to see it coming, as something like that would not have happened without Okram, and T'Pol is now something of an oddity in this MU. However, you were right and I realized that I had to make it clear to T'Pol, now, that something had happened to her, or the poor girl would go clueless through the entire story. Thanks. Glad you enjoyed the MS, but you're being too generous with your praise - it will make my head swell to gargantuan proportions, and I'll become insufferable in the process.


	20. Chapter 20

— **Chapter 20—**

Trip stood absolutely still, early the next morning by ship's time, as Phlox worked his laser scalpel over some of the nastiest of the scabs which covered his face. All of the small scabs had healed over, the medium sized sores were healing even now,and skin was growing back at an impressive rate, but an area of calloused tissue beneath his right cheekbone needed surgical attention to hear Phlox speak of it, and Trip knew better than to question the Denobulan in his own sphere.

"There," said Phlox some three minutes later, tossing a strip of skin that looked more like the hide of a warthog, than the skin of a man. "That should do it, Captain."

"I appreciate it, Doctor," said Trip, moving to touch the spot which Phlox had just worked on.

"No," said Phlox. "Don't touch it. Now, let me finish up here."

Another minute for Phlox to carefully apply an opaque bandage which went on wet, and dried quickly to a supple texture.

"That bandage will fall off on it's own in three or four days, Captain," said Phlox. "Don't pull on it until it starts peeling off on it's own."

"Got it," said Trip. "How's your research into the aging process going?"

"The files you've sent me are quite fascinating, Captain," said Phlox, "but I'm at least six months from beginning clinical trials. Nine months would be even more realistic."

"Take your time," said Trip. "I mean, that's what it's all about anyway, just know that as soon as you finish that I have even more exciting research for you to dig into."

"Looking forward to it," said Phlox.

"Breakfast?" said Trip. "Some of that French toast you like so much, with the caramelized bananas and the brandy & maple syrup?"

"Chef and I are on the outs currently," said Phlox, "due to the fact that I called him a baby. He wanted me to sedate him in order to remove an admittedly large splinter from his finger. But it was still a ridiculous request, which I denied, and he's cut me off the French toast as punishment."

"So I'll order it for me, and then we'll switch plates, Doctor," said Trip. "Now, what do you say?"

"I say yes, Captain," said Phlox, rubbing his hands together. "Let's go."

* * *

T'Pol woke at 7am, and found herself in captain Tucker's bed, alone. She grabbed hold of his pillow and buried her face in it for a bit, wishing that the man had possessed sense enough to still be here when she woke, for she was feeling a bit hot and bothered, even though she'd been well cared for the previous night. She briefly considered finding her own satisfaction, then decided against it: the fire would burn hotter this coming night, for not having been extinguished in the morning. She showered, dressed and made her way to the turbo-lift, en route for the Mess Hall, and ran into Crewman Ivers waiting on the lift as well.

"Good morning, T'Pol," said Ivers, and T'Pol nodded back to the crewman, her senses suddenly alert.

Crewman Sandra Ivers was a prize, with a great smile, pretty blue eyes, a lovely face and a great figure, all packed into her five foot, eight inch frame, all of which drew the attention, or jealousy, of much of the crew, but what really drew T'Pol's attention this morning was Ivers' scent. To Humans, who were nearly nose-blind compared to the Vulcans, who could read entire volumes in another's scent, Ivers' scent told a short story this morning: the musky scent spoke of aggression, the spiky, hot scent, told of an adrenalin rush, and the sickly-sweet scent spoke of murderous intent, and all together, they put T'Pol on edge, though not a trace of it showed on her face, which befit a former V'Shar operative.

"After you," said Ivers, when the turbo-lift door's opened, and T'Pol stepped through it quickly: whatever Ivers had in mind, better deal with it now, thought T'Pol, if it concerned her.

"So, are we dropping you off on Vulcan, T'Pol," said Ivers, "or do you continue with us?"

"I am a member of the Defiant's crew," said T'Pol. "I go with the ship."

"I see," said Ivers, fiddling with her uniform, which fit her curves quite well so far as T'Pol could see.

But then, Ivers swung her hand around with a stun gun in her fist, and aimed it for T'Pol's stomach. T'Pol was ready. She grabbed hold of Ivers' extended arm, with her own right hand, and easily twisted it clockwise given her strength advantage over the Human female. She unbalanced Ivers, and then immobilized her.

"Why?" said T'Pol.

"The female portion of the crew believes that Captain Tucker's star is rising," said Ivers through the pain, "and naturally, we all desire his favor. You are an obstacle to our aims. I took my shot and I lost T'Pol. You'll have no more trouble with me."

"That is true," said T'Pol, then applied a Vulcan nerve pinch, and Ivers went limp.

T'Pol allowed the Human to slip to the ground, then activated the turbo-lift's Comm console.

"T'Pol to Bridge."

"Yes, T'Pol," said Shran.

"Crewman Ivers attempted to use a stun gun on me just now," said T'Pol, "after which I suspect she intended to dump my body down a Jeffrey's tube."

"Where are you?" said Shran.

"Deck E, turbo-lift 2," said T'Pol.

"Remain there until a security team comes by to collect Ivers," said Shran.

"Yes, XO," said T'Pol, and minutes later two security men showed up and took charge of Ivers.

"Agony Booth?" said T'Pol, wondering what Shran had decreed as punishment for Ivers.

"Eight hours straight," said the Security officer.

T'Pol raised brow at that. That was a harsh sentence for a Human female, and could conceivably induce a heart attack in the young woman, although T'Pol wasn't about to shed any tears for Ivers. She had other matters with which to concern herself, and after a light breakfast, T'Pol made her way to the Bridge, where she found Shran holding the captain's chair, as the captain was locked in a private video conference call with the Zhael from his Ready Room.

A plus for this day though was the fact that a dozen Andorian rebel battlecruisers had thrown their lot in with the Defiant sometime during night watch, as soon as they drew close to view the Andorian fleet, and saw that the Zhael himself was part of this fleet.

* * *

The Empress Sato was in a shuttle now, accompanied by Commander Mayweather and Admiral Gardner, and she was focused now that the wait for Captain Tucker to make his move was over. Scouts had reported that the Defiant was en route to Earth now, accompanied by an Andorian fleet of some worth, but that made no difference to the Empress for she'd made her peace with the situation facing her, and she frankly found it far preferable to risk death in order to hold power, than run, and live her life out on some backwater planet as a relative nobody. As befit a true Empress, she would risk death with her fleet in battle, rather than wait safely on the planet below until someone or other came to notify her of her fate.

"We've rushed the Valley Forge out of space dock, Majesty," said Admiral Gardner, "so she's a bit short on finish and comfort, but she's in fighting shape, and she's the best we have."

The Empress waved Gardner's comment on finish and comfort as irrelevant, and the admiral was pleased by the Empress' mindset.

* * *

Far to the east, a RECON squadron of six cloaked Romulan ships drew close to Eridon-4, the furthest Human outpost from Earth, some five days past the colony on Alpha Centauri. Eridon-4 boasted a small shipyard, a StarFleet listening post, and some eight hundred military families on the planet below. Eridon-4's entire job here was to serve as a first warning line against aggressive action from the Romulan Empire, and perhaps in time it would indeed have been effective enough to be perform such a function, but for now it was completely surprised and overwhelmed when the RECON force closed in and opened fire on the men and women of Eridon-4. Firing their weapons dispelled the Romulan cloaks, but at that point, such things were irrelevant.

One Romulan ship lobbed an atomic weapon onto the planetary base which housed the families of the men and women working here, as well as most of the important facilities, and the all-essential command and communications structures. At the same time the other five Romulan ships took out the shipyard, and the four small destroyers which served mostly as a patrol force meant to deter Orion ships from the system.

One of the destroyers actually managed to get out a quick-burst compressed distress call out in the general direction of Alpha Centauri, but there was no guarantee that anyone would intercept the transmission, given that it was just roughly aimed a mere split second before the ship was destroyed.

Some thirty minutes after the destruction of Eridon-4, the combined Romulan/Klingon fleet passed the still smoking base at high warp speed, not that anyone aboard those ships noticed Eridon-4, nor would they have cared for the loss of Human life.

* * *

Both the Defiant and the Andorian fleet dropped out of warp for a bit, so that Captain Tucker might lunch with the Zhael, in order to show his trust in the Andorian, and after a few subtle tests the captain found that his bracelet worked just as well on Andorian technology, which was quite satisfying. Even better was finding that the Zhael had no treachery in store for Captain Tucker while the man was in his power, but then that was not surprising. A man who took the word Honor's Heart as his own, would not sully such a title with deceit. Three hours later, Trip returned to the Defiant and the fleet resumed warp speed for Earth, while Trip occupied himself with ship's business until Shran reached out to him.

"XO to the Captain."

"Yes, Shran," said Trip, speaking into one of Engineering's Comm consoles.

"Make your way to the Bridge if you're free, Captain," said Shran.

"On my way," said Trip.

Minutes later Trip made the Bridge and Shran slipped from the captain's chair to make room for Captain Tucker. Trip sat and noted the the tactical view of the sensor feed displayed fifty-five small red triangles on the Bridge monitor, as these ships, on an interception course, were too far out for the Defiant to get an optical view of that fleet.

"Vulcan energy signatures," said Shran. "We should notify the Zhael. Andorian sensors won't pick up that fleet up for another two hours or so."

"Do it," said Trip, and Shran stepped up to the Comm station and spoke briefly to a Bridge officer aboard the Tulludon, the Zhael's ship, then came back to the captain's side. "I'll be in the Weapons Bay, XO."

"All right," said Shran.

Trip spent the next five hours in Tactical working with Lt-Commander Reed to solve a few technical issues, until Shran called him back to the Bridge, and this time the Bridge's video monitor showed an optical composite of a Vulcan fleet approaching them all at their best speed.

"ETA?" said Trip.

"Seventeen minutes," said Shran, and the entire fleet waited for the two fleets to intercept each other.

"Tactical?" said Trip.

"Their shields are off line, as are their weapons," said Lee, who was manning the Tactical station.

That in itself was not surprising to Trip. Vulcans liked to straddle fences 'till the last minute, and open warfare had not yet broken up between the Empress Sato's forces, and his own. That fact in itself made the appearance of this Vulcan fleet suspicious. Their expected actions in this case should have been to stall for time and avoid any entanglements until a victor emerged, and then pledge eternal loyalty to the new head of the Terran Empire.

The Vulcans dropped out of warp first, and the Andorians followed their lead, dropping from warp and moving to gain tactical advantage without the need for orders, enveloping the Vulcan fleet in a new moon, crescent formation, in three dimensions, with some Andorian battlecruisers above, as well as below the Vulcans.

"We are being hailed, Captain," said the Defiant's Comm officer.

"Put it through," said Trip, "and share our comm stream with the Tulludon."

A moment later, the image of the Vulcan Admiral Tosek, transmitting from the Bridge of his flagship, the Mott-Kryak, a Suurok battlecruiser. Shran recognized the Vulcan, and whispered in the captain's ear.

"Captain Tucker," said Tosek, "I am Admiral Tosek."

Trip gave the Vulcan a brief nod, and said, "Your fame proceeds you, Admiral. How may I be of service to you?"

"We wish to join your fleet, Captain Tucker," said Tosek, "and support your bid for the crown."

"Really?" said Trip. "This is a bit early for Vulcans to take a stand, no?"

"Soval was quite persuasive in advocating his support of you," said Tosek, "and he made it clear that waiting until the last minute to show our support would mean nothing in your eyes, Captain Tucker."

Trip thought furiously. A fleet of fifty-five ships was nothing to casually dismiss, and it would bring his overall numbers to 138 ships versus the Empress' 200+ ships, but Trip still wasn't sure he wanted any ties with Vulcan when he took the crown.

"And what does the High Command expect in return for your participation in the upcoming battle for the crown?" said Trip.

"Nothing but fair treatment under your rule," said Tosek, having been warned not to try extracting any more than that from Captain Tucker.

"All right. I'll give you a chance to prove your loyalty, Admiral. Fall in on the right flank," said Trip, "and prepare to go to warp."

"Yes, Captain," said Tosek, and the video screen went black.

"Pull up the Zhael," said Trip, and the Comm officer quickly complied.

"You've heard everything, Zhael?"

"I did," said the Zhael. "You did well to accept their support. The Vulcans fight well enough when they finally get down to business."

"Take command of the fleet in my absence, Zhael," said Trip. "You and the Vulcans will set course for Earth at best speed, while the Defiant goes ahead and scouts the way. I will notify the Vulcans that they are to follow your orders until I return. I know I don't have to warn you to keep an eye on them, although they'd be stupid to pledge loyalty and then betray me: such betrayal would demand I make an example of Vulcan so that others will not mistake me for a fool in the future, and I think they know that."

The Zhael nodded his agreement with Captain Tucker's logic, and a few minutes later the Defiant shot ahead, while the fleet followed behind the Defiant at best speed.


	21. Chapter 21

— **Chapter 21—**

As the Defiant scouted the way for the rest of the fleet, the ship came across a dozen Terran StarFleet scouts while covering the distance between Vulcan and Earth. These scout ships were destroyers, small, fast, agile, a class of ship well suited to the role of scout, but still not equipped to escape the Defiant. There was no communication from the Defiant to these ships, no orders to surrender. The Defiant simply eradicated these scouts as it came across them, ripping them to shreds after chasing them down, like a Greyhound killing rabbits, but only after giving them time enough to report back to HQ of the Defiant's coming. The deaths of those ships and those men was strictly speaking unnecessary, as the Empress surely knew about the fleet heading her way, but it was important to send StarFleet a message, even if a subliminal message. Standing against the Defiant meant death.

The journey from Vulcan's vicinity, where the Vulcan fleet had joined the Andorian, to Earth's star system would take some fifty hours for the fleet to complete. The Defiant would make that journey in fourteen hours, but even with that speed advantage, fourteen hours was still fourteen hours, so Trip left Shran in command and went to his quarters. A shower, five hours of sleep, a few minutes to put on a fresh uniform, and just then his door's chime sounded announcing a visitor. It was Soval, and Trip stepped aside to allow the Vulcan to enter his cabin.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Captain," said Soval.

"It's no bother, Soval," said Trip. "I was headed for Captain's Mess. I need some coffee. Join me."

Soval nodded his agreement, and minutes later they were seated and served their coffee, after which they ordered a bite to eat.

"So," said Trip, once the steward had left with their food orders, "what's on your mind, Soval?"

"I was wondering what you have planned for the vanquished StarFleet personnel, Captain," said Soval looking earnestly at Trip. "Human, Andorian and Vulcan."

"I plan to issue a blanket pardon for everyone at the end of the battle," said Trip, "except the Empress. You know she has to formally abdicate, or die, else she'll be a constant thorn in my side."

"Oh," said Soval, looking relieved for there were thousands of Vulcans serving StarFleet, and thus standing against Captain Tucker. "I was afraid you meant to make an example of all those that opposed you."

"No, Soval," said Trip. "They're just doing their duty as they see it, and I have no problem with that. Is that all that's bothered you?"

Soval said nothing as the steward entered the room with a tray and laid down two bowls of soup, some crusty sourdough baguettes, and two ramekins of butter.

"Smells good," said Soval, and Trip raised brow at the steward.

"Soupe de potiron et poireaux au foie gras," said the steward, and Trip translated in his head, and then for Soval: pumpkin and leek soup with foie gras.

The captain's steward was French, and he'd been pleased to find that the captain spoke French, and he was not about to let him forget it, thus the constant tests to keep the man's language skills up to par.

"Oh, it's good," said Soval and Trip nodded agreeably with the Vulcan's assessment after a taste: the creaminess of the colorful pumpkin was complemented by the hearty onion flavor of the leeks, and those flavors supported the richness of the seared foie gras, goose liver.

The two said nothing as they ate the soup, and Trip sensed that Soval was trying to figure out a proper approach to the topic he meant to bring up with him next. Minutes later, the steward returned and cleared the bowls, and then set two small plates on the table.

"Escargots a la Bourguignonne?" said Trip, and the steward nodded: snails in an herb and garlic butter.

"Oh, these are delicious," said Soval, studying the large snail on his fork. "What is this?"

"Chicken strips," said Trip, sparing Soval from too close an examination of his food this night, and the steward snickered.

"Doesn't look like chicken," said Soval, "but it's quite tasty."

A few more questions discussing the dish, then the steward returned and brought with him two plates and another basket of crusty bread and butter. Trip recognized the dish easily. It was one of Chef's best.

"Beef Bourguignon," said Trip in explanation to Soval.

A braised beef dish that was the essence of perfection, a stew prepared by braising beef in red wine and beef broth, and flavored with garlic, onions and a bouquet garni, with pearl onions and mushrooms added towards the end of cooking. The tender meat would melt on the tongue and the flavors were both refined and intense. Chef had chosen to serve it with mashed potatoes and sauteed green beans, which was fitting, as the beef was the star of the plate.

"If there's any left," said Trip, "save it for the XO."

"Chef made plenty, Captain. He knows the XO loves the dish as well," said the steward, then left the room.

Trip and Soval each savored a few bites, before Trip said, "Ok, Soval. Out with it. What are you dying to say, but can't get out?"

Soval sighed and laid down his fork, then said, "May I count on your discretion with the following information, Captain? If my people get wind of what I'm about to share with you, and the suggestion I intend to make, they will likely have me executed."

Trip nodded his agreement to Soval's request for discretion.

"Well, then, Captain," said Soval, "I will tell you that in the course of my diplomatic career, I have made many high level contacts, and these contacts are still willing to speak to me, and they tell me that Administrator V'Las is colluding with the Romulan Empire to bring Vulcan into the Romulan fold. I suggest that you kill him as soon as possible, for he seems most determined to bring that union about, and I know him. He will resort to blackmail, threats, bribery, anything it takes to make it happen, sooner or later. I suggest that you kill him, but given that he's the highest member of the High Command, I suggest subtlety."

By subtlety, Soval meant assassination, but Trip thought of the Tantalus Field, and so he wasn't too concerned over the mechanics of V'Las' disappearance, if it should come to that.

"Why is V'Las so committed to the Romulans?"

"He might be a Romulan, Captain," said Soval.

"What's that?" said Trip.

"Well you must understand, Captain, that Vulcans and Romulans are basically identical, genetically speaking," said Soval.

"Yeah, I know the Romulans are on offshoot of the Vulcans," said Trip, "but the Romulan brow ridges—"

"That's a minor thing, Captain," said Soval, "like Humans with blue eyes, or green. Those brow ridges were quite common in several of the clans in the southern hemisphere, and those clans numbered in the tens of millions. It just so happened that most of the Vulcans which left our planet some eight thousand years ago in search of a new home, came from those southern clans, and so, that feature became dominant in Romulans, while it was bred out of the gene pool on Vulcan after the southern clans departure from our planet, and our gene pool."

"Well," said Trip thoughtfully, "it makes sense for the Romulans. Gives them a foothold in this sector, threatens the Terran Empire at little cost to them. Nice plan. Too bad I don't plan to allow them to manifest it."

"So, V'Las?" said Soval.

"Will be taken care of discreetly," said Trip. "Don't worry about it."

"If you say it, I believe it, Captain," said Soval, pushing his plate away, quite satisfied.

"I will remember your loyalty, Soval," said Trip, polishing off the last bite of food on his plate.

The steward entered then, and cleared the plates only to replace them with two plates with a type of cake which Chef had not cooked before and Trip gave the steward an inquisitive look.

"Gateau perigourdin, Captain."

"Nice," said Trip, then told Soval. "It's a walnut and caramel cake."

"Wonderful," said Soval, before digging in.

"Some more coffee please," said Trip, and the steward obliged the captain in short order.

Another ten minutes of chatter then Soval departed for his shift in Science, and Trip resolved to finish a last cup of coffee before relieving Shran of his duty. T'Pol entered the Captain's Mess just then and stood in front of the captain, looking at the man with that intensely inquisitive look she had, and yet without this psychic Bond they now shared, Trip would likely have had no clue what she wanted, without asking. Now he knew, she just wanted a bit of time with him.

"Take my lap," said Trip, and guided T'Pol so that she straddled him, and T'Pol placed her arms on the captain's shoulders, looking the man in the eye.

They kissed then for a bit, then Trip fiddled with the Vulcan's uniform and freed her magnificent breasts from their unjust confinement. T'Pol was breathing heavily now, though he'd handled them for just a few seconds, but then this psychic Bond between them heightened her arousal in ways which was not easily understood by Trip just yet, but he felt the Bond heightening both sensation and desire in T'Pol, and she seemed to have no way of blocking, or regulating her arousal, and Trip had used this fact to toy with T'Pol a bit since Bonding her, though he tried not to make it too unbearable for her.

In any case, he was tasting T'Pol's breasts when the steward walked into the room to see if anything else was required of him, and T'Pol froze, blushing a green as lively as any Orion. She tried to move then, to cover up, but Trip said something and she stopped, though blushing even more furiously.

"Anything else, Captain?" said the steward with a straight face, but then the man was French.

"Not for now," said Trip. "Thank you."

The steward nodded and left, and T'Pol looked Trip over, silently.

"Relax, T'Pol," said Trip. "The man's French. There was nothing unwholesome about our amusement, to his eyes."

"If you say so, Captain," said T'Pol, and despite her mortification, the man had her breathing like a locomotive soon enough, once more.

Twenty minutes and a fierce quickie later, Trip made the Bridge, followed some five minutes later by T'Pol, who had taken a roundabout way to the Bridge, after quite credibly threatening the steward to hold his tongue on pain of the Agony Booth, not that such threats were needed: the captain was a pleasant man to serve under, so far as the steward was concerned, and his secrets were safe.

"XO," said Trip on entering the Bridge. "Chef's holding all the Beef Bourguignon you can eat, just for you."

"Excellent," said Shran, antennas waving quickly back and forth in anticipation. "Excellent!"

"Eat," said Trip, "then hit the mattress. You're relieved of duty for the next eight hours."

"All right," said Shran, and then bolted for the Mess Hall.

Trip felt T'Pol's attention from her station, and he glanced her way, gave her a slight smile, and 'caressed' her through the psychic Bond, though that was an odd way of speaking about something that was quite new to him. No matter, T'Pol felt his touch, and was pleased by it. That was enough.

* * *

The joint Romulan/Klingon fleet had moved swiftly towards Earth since destroying Eridon-4, simply wiping out any and every ship in it's way, be it merchant cargo ship, Orion raider, Terran cruiser, Andorian battlecruiser, or the two dozen unrecognized ships they'd destroyed, but two of the ships had managed to transmit their sensor data to Alpha Centauri before their destruction, and that colony forwarded that data to Earth immediately, warning the Empress of the firestorm headed her way.

* * *

Seven hours after he had left the Bridge, Shran returned.

"What are you doing back here?" said Trip. "You've still got an hour left."

"You think I'd want to miss this?" said Shran, noting the view of the large video monitor, as the Defiant approached the outer limits of Earth's Sol system, far beyond even Pluto's orbit. "I want to see if this crew's learned what I had to teach them."

Trip nodded and they all waited silently for another ten minutes until the Helmsman said, "We are approaching our designated starting point, Captain. Ten seconds."

"Tactical?" said Trip, sparing a glance for Lee.

"We are ready here, Captain," said Lee.

"Do it, Helm," said Trip.

The Helmsman followed the procedure in which Shran had instructed him, and Andorian method of taking long distance scans, in which the ship dropped out of warp for less than a second, while the computer captured sensor data in much higher resolution than possible at warp, then the ship took a short warp hop, and another brief stop, another sensor scan, twelve in all, and all completed in less than fifteen seconds, and then the Defiant was headed back the way she came…

It was a slick maneuver, and might have passed muster, but the Empress had expected some reconnaissance runs, and had spotted the ship. Not that she could have done anything about it, given how brief a time the Defiant had spent insystem, before departing at speeds which could not be matched by any other ship in the Empress' fleet.


	22. Chapter 22

— **Chapter 22—**

The Defiant intercepted the joint Vulcan/Andorian fleet while that fleet was a bit more than halfway to Earth, and when the Defiant's arrival brought the fleet to a standstill, Trip invited the Zhael and his aides, and the Vulcan Admiral Tosek and his aides, to view the reconnaissance data which the Defiant had captured on its scouting mission to the Sol system.

"Our first target will have to be these three rail guns," said Trip, already an hour into the meeting, once all the sensor data had been thoroughly studied. "Or we have to lure the Empress' forces outside their range."

All knew the captain's words were true. Those rail guns were a nightmare. At 200 meters/656 feet long each, they were almost the length of an NX class ship, and they were something of an oddity, for although they had sufficient engines and thrusters to allow the gun's operators to move and aim the gun along any vector, they were essentially stationary and had to be towed from location to location, but they more than made up for the trouble with sheer killing power, as each gun had some eight hundred barrels which fired steel marbles at a rate of some nine hundred shots a minute, for a grand total of 720,000 projectiles a minute per gun, although they were usually only fired in short bursts, seconds long. That's all that was needed. The sheer number of projectiles was bad enough, but the rail guns accelerated these projectiles to a speed of some 900 kilometers per second, and anything they struck, they killed. Polarized hulls were effective only against energy weapons, and even the best contemporary shields could only resist these swarms of steel projectiles for three or four seconds at best. Always, the target was shredded beyond recognition soon after being struck by that artificial steel rain.

"Her fleet will not leave the range of those guns," said the Vulcan admiral, Tosek. "I would not. Rather she will attack, and if hard pressed, she will retreat and regroup her forces while the guns protect their ships from ours."

"Can we be certain of that?" said the Zhael. "She can not afford to seem intimidated by us, a seemingly lessor force."

"I do not believe that she will be concerned by such factors," said Tosek. "No doubt StarFleet's officer cadre would understand her tactics, and will support her decision."

"As fast as the rail gun's projectiles," said Trip, "they still can not hit a ship at warp speed, and we could drop out of warp right atop the guns, and blast them to hell."

"Perhaps this ship is capable of such precisions and maneuvers," said Tosek, "but our ships are not, and I do not believe that the Andorian ships are capable of it either. There are too many ships protecting those guns, and we would warp in only to crash into the gun or any of the StarFleet vessels protecting those guns."

"I know," said Trip. "That's why I intend to take them out with the Defiant, one cannon at a time. Warp in, destroy a gun, warp out, then repeat."

"That might very well work with the first gun," said the Zhael, "but they'll quickly surround the two remaining guns. They'll blast you to hell with phaser fire, and that's assuming the rail gun is not fast enough to draw sights on you. In that case you're definitely dead."

"It will be tricky," said Trip, "but this crew and this ship can do it, and remember, time is on our side if the Empress will not leave the guns. I can take some damage from other ships in taking out the second gun, so long as I remain outside the firing solution of the rail gun. Then I can retreat, perform repairs if needed, and come back days, or weeks later for the third gun, even though that's not the course I'd choose to take."

"What if we bait the Empress into leaving the guns by taking over StarFleet's Mars shipyards, as well as the twelve moon colonies of Jupiter and Saturn," said the Zhael. "The Empress will lose support quickly if she can't even protect the Empire's holdings in her own star system, and StarFleet can't afford to lose the Mars shipyards. Hell, if we capture Mars, the Mars shipyards and the moon colonies, we solve all of our logistics problems… fuel, weapons, food."

"I agree with the Zhael," said Tosek, "and even given this ship's superiority, I'd hate to send you against those guns, and lose you, Captain. The Empress would punish our people cruelly for standing with her enemies."

Trip thought furiously, and the Zhael and admiral Tosek waited silently for the man to come to a decision.

"We'll warp into the system and capture Mars right off the bat," said Trip. "I'm quite familiar with the StarFleet's layout there and the obstacles we'll face. Then I'll take out the first gun, and make a statement by doing so. I'll take out the second gun too, if I manage to take the first without any serious damage. Then come back for the third at a later time. They can't stay on peak alert forever, guarding that third gun. Sooner or later, vigilance will give way to boredom."

Tosek and the Zhael nodded their agreement to that plan.

"T'Pol," said Trip. "Let's have a look at Mars, my dear."

The Zhael was already aware of Trip's sexual relationship with T'Pol, having noted them interacting on a few occasions since throwing his lot in with Captain Tucker. The Zhael, being no fool, quickly noted the intent and possessive way in which the Vulcan looked at the man, and the commanding way the man had with the Vulcan, and despite his general dislike of Vulcans, the Zhael thought them a good match. So he took no notice of Trip's verbal slip, but Tosek had noticed as well, and had taken interest in the matter.

An advantage, thought Tosek. An advantage which we might leverage into something some day.

The admiral turned his attention back to the matter at hand, when T'Pol began feeding everyone the required data on Mars, and the discussions of tactics and strategy began, for choosing to take Mars would place the Empress on the horns of a dilemma, and conceivably force her to bring her forces to Mars, while leaving the rail guns behind to protect Earth.

* * *

The Empress took the call from Earth in private, in the Valley Forge's Ready Room.

"Well," said the Empress, "did you find them?"

"I did, Majesty," said Leopold, the head of the Imperial Secret Service.

"Have them transported to the Valley Forge immediately!"

"Yes, Majesty."

* * *

Force Recon 997, a squadron of six cloaked Romulan ships was far in advance of the Romulan/Kligon fleet for it had been on station just outside the Sol system for some two months now, ever since the old Human Emperor had been overthrown by the current Empress. Although cloaked, none of the ships of Recon 997 could safely enter Earth's Sol system, given the wide sensor net which the Humans had built against just such intrusions. Not that it mattered, as the Romulan's passive sensors were quite adequate to detect the approach of the mixed Andorian/Vulcan fleet as it headed directly on a vector for the Sol system.

"Report," said Captain T'vael, ranking officer of the reconnaissance force, to the Tactical officer of his ship, Rea'Shel, Rea's Shield.

"I have 138 ships on course for the Sol system," said the ship's Tactical officer. "Based on their current trajectory, their destination is any place from Jupiter to Venus, but the closer they get to the Sol system, the more accurate our predictions."

"How long until they enter the system?" said T'vael.

"Six hours, more or less, Captain."

"And how long before our fleet makes the system?" said T'vael.

"Three days, Captain."

"Notify our fleet of these developments," said T'vael.

"Yes, Captain."

* * *

One hour from Earth's Sol system now, Captain Tucker's fleet activated shields and powered weapons, for by now all sides had each other on long range sensors. On the Bridge of the Defiant stood Shran as backup for command, T'Pol and Soval for Science, Lee for Tactical, DeLeon for Communications, and just off the Bridge, Lt-Commander Reed and his trained squad of soldiers, and each of these people took a last opportunity for stimulants, as Phlox made his way among the crew.

"Captain," said the Defiant's Comm officer suddenly. "I have an incoming message from the Empress."

"Put it up," said Trip, and the Empress Sato's face was displayed on the main Bridge monitor, "and share our feed with Tosek and the Zhael."

Everyone on the Bridge stood and saluted the Empress as her image was displayed on the main video monitor, for despite their purpose in approaching Earth, the Empress was still the head of the Terran Empire until deposed, and protocol was followed as a matter decorum, and respect.

"I will tell you that the Empire stands in great danger, Captain Tucker," said the Empress. "Come to Earth. Hold parley with me."

Trip considered the Empress' words. They were likely an attempt to lure him to Earth and into a trap, but the Defiant's sensors were better than anything available to the Empress, so Trip was confident that he could avoid setting foot in a snare.

"What type of danger, Majesty?" said Trip.

"Come to Earth," said the Empress, "and I will show you everything. Ignore my words, and the Terran Empire is finished, and there's little to be gained by fighting for the burning wreckage of an empire."

Trip considered the Empress' words, and said, "Tow your rail guns over the North Pole and aim them towards the planet below, Majesty."

"It will be done," said the Empress, knowing that doing as the captain had requested would neutralize them as weapons against Captain Tucker's fleet, but she had no choice.

Right on time, fifth-eight minutes later, Captain Tucker's fleet warped in some hundred million kilometers from Earth, and approached the planet at half impulse, each and every ship scanning the terrain quite thoroughly, expecting treachery, and finally coming to a stop some 400,000 thousand kilometers from the white line of StarFleet vessels which formed the Empress' line of defense. As promised, the rail cannons were stationed over the North Pole, but sensors had already verified that fact on the way in.

"Wait here," said Trip to Tosek and the Zhael, as those commanders were displayed on the main Bridge monitor as thumbnails, on the right side of the screen.

"Be careful," said the Zhael, expecting treachery.

"Helm," said Captain Tucker, "take us halfway between our respective lines."

There was no need to order that shields should be brought up, or weapons made ready, for the Defiant was fully ready to war, but it seemed that no treachery was forthcoming, as the Valley Forge followed the Defiant's lead from the Empress' side and met the futuristic ship halfway between their lines, the two ships separated by a mere 5,000 kilometers.

"We're being hailed, Captain," said the Comm officer.

"Put it up," said Trip, "and share the feed with our people."

A moment later, the Empress was displayed in the Defiant's monitor, and once again, every Bridge officer formally saluted the Empress, including Captain Tucker.

"I appreciate you hearing me out, Captain Tucker," said the Empress, and the captain inclined his head to the Empress. "We're prepping a data packet for your review. It will show that a large fleet of Romulan and Klingon ships on its way for Earth. They intend to make use of this crisis, to do away with a rival."

"How many ships, Majesty?" said Trip.

"Six hundred, more or less," said the Empress.

"I see," said Trip. "And you wish to abdicate the crown in my favor so that the Empire might face this threat united?"

The Empress gave the captain a cold smile, and said, "Hardly, Captain. Instead I propose that you and your ships join our line and stand ready to do your duty for the Empire."

"It's your empire, Majesty. You fight for it."

The Empress snapped her fingers, and two people were thrust next to the Empress, and into the captain's view: Trip's parents.

"Are you certain that I can't change your mind, Captain Tucker?" said the Empress, and the captain began laughing: the Empress frowned, for this was not the response she'd expected.

"If you expect me to comply, in return for their lives, Majesty, I must disappoint you," said Captain Tucker.

"Oh?" said the Empress, suspecting a trick.

"That bastard used to beat the shit out of me for a hobby, my entire childhood," said Trip, "and my dearest mother was far too busy climbing the social ladder to notice, or care. If you decide to kill them, toss them into an Agony Booth until they die, Majesty. I'd consider it a personal favor."

The Empress gave a slight wave, and Trip's parents were dragged offstage, presumably to be disposed of just as Captain Tucker had suggested.

"You want to hold parley with me, Majesty," said Trip. "Come aboard the Defiant. We will view your data together, and see if we can find a solution to our dilemma."

The Empress said, "You must take me for a fool, Captain."

"Before you ever step foot on the Defiant, Majesty, I'll address your fleet personally, and pledge on my honor that you may come and go as you please from the Defiant," said Trip.

The Empress considered the man's words. An Emperor could be many things, among them ruthless, greedy, lascivious, tyrannical, vengeful, and many more things besides that, but the one thing he could never be, is dishonorable. Such emperors were quickly disposed of, and never avenged. If Captain Tucker violated his word and killed the Empress aboard the Defiant, StarFleet's forces would likely fight rather than surrender upon the Empress' death, and although competent Emperors were generally spared attempts on their lives due to the turmoil which accompanied such Imperial assassinations, dishonorable Emperors were an exception to this rule.

"I'll have my Comm officer contact you shortly with the proper frequency," said the Empress. "Once you have pledged yourself to do as you've just said, I will board the Defiant."

"Yes, Majesty," said Trip, and signaled that his Comm officer should sever the connection, then looked at T'Pol. "T'Pol, how many Andorians do you think are serving aboard those ships?"

"The Andorians typically form 15-20% of StarFleet's complement, Captain," said T'Pol. "Why?"

"Comm," said Trip, "can you take the video feed from one of our aft cameras, and display it as a backdrop behind me, when I'm addressing the Empress' fleet?"

"Easily, Captain," said the Comm officer.

"Good," said Trip. "Do it, and make certain that the Zhael's ship, the Tulludon, is prominently displayed behind my left shoulder."

"Yes, Captain," said the Comm officer and began fiddling with a few dials.

T'Pol raised brow at the Captain, but Shran smiled the toothy smile of a shark, and said, "You clever, clever bastard!"

Trip smiled. There were thousands of Andorians aboard the Empress' ships, each and every one of them honor bound to attack the Zhael's enemies upon the commencement of hostilities, and well, Trip did not envy the crews of the Empress' ships, when the Andorians turned on them all. That these honorable Andorians would die was the regrettable cost of doing business here and now.

Minutes later, his Comm officer signaled Trip, and the captain addressed the entirety of the Empress' fleet.

"I, Charles Tucker, captain of the Defiant and the commander of the fleet at my back, state that I have invited the Empress aboard my ship to hold parley, on promise that she may come and go from the Defiant as she pleases," said Trip. "Furthermore, the video feed from each security camera with a view of the Empress will follow her progress through the ship, and this data will be beamed back to the Empress' fleet as proof of her Majesty's proper treatment while aboard my ship."

Trip nodded to his Comm officer, and the man severed the connection.

"So, what do you think, Shran?" said Trip. "How much you want to bet that the engineers aboard those ships have noticed my beautiful new face, my rosy cheeks, and wondered at it. You think they'll give the fight their all, if it means I get killed, and they lose the cure?"

"You clever bastard," said Shran once again, then began laughing.


	23. Chapter 23

— **Chapter 23—**

The Empress boarded the Defiant shortly after Captain Tucker's announcement to her fleet which guaranteed her safety, and every eye in both fleets followed her progress through the futuristic ship via the Defiant's security feed, which was trained on the Empress, as promised. The next two hours were consumed in reviewing her Majesty's data of the approaching joint Klingon/Romulan fleet, data which had been transmitted from Alpha Centauri to Earth, and Trip was finally convinced that this was no ruse on the Empress' part.

"So you see, Captain Tucker, we must join forces to repel these invaders," said the Empress looking round the table, to take in Captain Tucker, the Vulcan admiral Tosek, and the Andorian Zhael, as well as a number of Lt-Commander Reed's men who lined the walls, as did a number of aides, some belonging to the Empress, some to the Zhael, some to Tosek, and some to Captain Tucker, among them, T'Pol.

"What I see is that you need our ships to join yours, Majesty," said Trip. "I still do not see how we benefit by doing so."

"You believe that my fleet and that of these invaders will bleed each other out, leaving you to mop up the entire operation," said the Empress, "but it will not play out like that, Captain. Facing three to one odds, my forces will get swamped quite quickly, leaving you with at least three to four hundred enemy ships to contend with. You will be defeated in turn, Captain Tucker, and your treasonous act of holding back from participating in this battle will spell doom for the Empire."

"It might seem that way to you, Empress," said Trip, "but—"

"In addition to which," said the Empress, looking closely to the Zhael, "I am surprised that the Zhael is going along with this deplorable tactic of yours. The Andorians stood closely with us, last time the Empire faced a Klingon threat."

"And in return for their loyalty they've received nothing tangible," said Trip. "Yes, they've been given respect, but they're still taxed as heavily as the day they were conquered and absorbed into the Empire, and still treated as second raters under the law, when they should be treated as brothers and equals."

The Zhael who had been stung by the Empress' words, was pleased in turn by Captain Tucker's words.

"A fact I intend to rectify if they stand with us now," said the Empress, looking meaningfully at the Zhael. "Stand by me, stand for the Empire, and all of your 'questionable' activities of late could all be forgiven, all of you. In addition, you could have a place in the Empire just shy of mine, Captain Tucker, at no risk to yourself."

Trip smiled, seemingly considering the Empress' offer for a moment, and then he reached for the sheathed dagger he had tucked into the small of his back for just this purpose, as Trip had no intention of parting with the fine dagger which the Zhael had given him.

"There is a way to bring our fleets together, Majesty, and there is a way out of our current difficulties," said Trip, sliding the dagger towards the Empress, and doing so well enough that the dagger came to a stop four inches from her Majesty's hand.

"You gave your word, Captain Tucker," said the Empress, practically sneering at the man. "You swore that I could come and go as I please from the Defiant, and now you intend to kill me. Do you forget that cameras are relaying your actions to my entire fleet, even now?"

"Oh, I don't intend to break my word, Majesty," said Trip. "I'm offering you a chance to heal this rift between us, unite our fleets, and satisfy us both."

"And how is that going to happen, Captain Tucker?" said the Empress.

"You will fight T'Pol in a contest to the death," said Trip. "Win, and retain your status as Empress, even as I become Emperor, and my heirs will come through you. You might even manage to assassinate me somewhere down the line, and then rule again as sole Empress. Lose, and well, that problems solves itself."

"No!" said Commander Mayweather, advancing on Captain Tucker, only to have a Lt-Commander Reed step between the two men. "That's an unacceptable offer!"

"Step back!" said Reed, dagger already in hand, while two of his people had almost instantly raised phaser rifles on the commander in cooperation with their squad leader.

Commander Mayweather was about to reply to Lt-Commander Reed, or perhaps act against the man, though that would have been unwise, but the Empress looked coldly at the commander, and said, "Return to your place, Commander Mayweather!"

Hurt by the Empress' icy command, Commander Mayweather obeyed while throwing a resentful glance towards her Majesty, but the Empress could not have possibly cared less of the man's feelings. In truth, she was intrigued by the captain's offer, and given that the man had shown enough political savvy to bring the Vulcans and Andorians over to his side, and that on top of stealing her ship from right under her nose… clearly the man had potential, and he was attractive enough now, that the marks on his face which proclaimed his radiation sickness, had somehow been healed. Yes, the man had potential. As for T'Pol, the Empress had never seen the Vulcan do more than physically wrestle another crewman, and though Vulcans were stronger than Humans, a weapon took a great deal of that advantage from her: an armed fighter could easily kill an opponent twice his strength, and the Empress was well trained with a variety of weapons.

Everyone in the conference room had kept silent while the Empress considered the captain's offer, politely giving her the time to reach a calculated decision, and finally, the Empress looked up, and said, "I agree to your terms, Captain Tucker."

Trip nodded, pointed at the camera built into the conference table, and said, "Look into that camera and formally announce your decision to your fleet, Majesty. Afterwards, you will be given a chance to change into something more suitable for the contest, and then I will request that you make your way to the Shuttle Bay, where the contest will take place."

* * *

For her part, when T'Pol had heard Trip volunteer her to engage in mortal combat with the Empress, she'd felt only exultation, where a Human might have felt fear, or anger, or a sense of betrayal.

Yes!, she'd thought, I will prove my fitness to be Captain Tucker's mate by engaging in my own kal-if-fee, and I will emerge victorious!

As the room began clearing out, with everyone but the Empress heading for the Shuttle Bay, Trip waited by the door, and when T'Pol passed close, he gently grabbed hold of the Vulcan by her bicep and drew her aside, remaining silent until they were eventually alone in the conference room. Trip studied T'Pol's face closely, but she seemed as poised as ever, only the euphoria from her end of the Bond giving away her true feelings, and sensing that, Trip dispensed with the explanations he'd meant to give T'Pol for his action.

"Don't fuck this up, T'Pol," said Trip. "Don't make me have to breed with that bitch."

"That is not going to happen, Captain Tucker," said T'Pol, looking quite determined. "After this kal-if-fee, everyone will know that you belong to me!"

"Whoa, whoa, T'Pol," said Trip, holding his hands up in manner meant to calm T'Pol down. "Let's keep things classy, and let's slow down on the belonging to you talk. That won't be good for anybody."

"You know my words are true, Captain Tucker," said T'Pol, not in the least amused by the man's attempt at levity on such a crucial subject.

"Fine. Win, and I will proclaim that you my mate," said Trip, then grinned. "Lose, and I'm finally rid of you."

"You will never be rid of me, Captain Tucker," said T'Pol, with a right proper bunny-boiler glint in her eyes. "Put that thought away, once and for all."

* * *

"You can still get out of this," said Commander Mayweather, as the Empress slid into a skin tight black workout suit she'd found in her cabin, for Captain Tucker had never gotten around to reassigning her quarters.

The Empress merely looked at Commander Mayweather, as she tied the dagger's sheath to her right thigh.

"We can board a shuttle and leave," said Mayweather. "They won't stop us!"

"That would be as bad as losing now, Travis," said the Empress. "I have formally accepted Captain Tucker's offer."

"You're the Empress," said Mayweather. "You can change your mind!"

"Hand me that belt," said the Empress, pointing towards a leather belt hanging from a coat hook I the corner of the room.

"Listen to me," said Mayweather, turning to reach for the belt which the Empress had pointed out, "let's go back to the Valley Forg—"

The man's words were cut off suddenly, when the Empress savagely drove her dagger deep into the man's side once, then again, and then one last time, and then the Empress watched coldly as the man's body slid down to the floor. Captain Tucker would clearly make a much more suitable mate for an Empress, thought the Empress Sato, and it was only a matter of time until she had the man wrapped round her dainty little fingers. After wiping her blade clean on the rapidly cooling body of her former lover, the Empress stepped over his corpse in order to make her way to the Shuttle Bay.

Minutes later, the Empress entered the Shuttle Bay to see dozens of people already in attendance to personally view the life and death struggle between an Empress and a Vulcan, which was not surprising, as this was something of a historic occasion. No doubt every crewman, of every ship, of both fleets, was glued to a video monitor, no doubt preferring this orderly resolution to the question of succession, over an otherwise unavoidable and bloody clash between the two fleets.

Captain Tucker had ordered that all the shuttles be flown outside the Defiant, leaving the Shuttle Bay as a large white space, impressively empty, but the Empress did not care about that. She moved through the Shuttle Bay, ignoring the salutes of the people she passed, eyes out solely for Captain Tucker, and she noted the man eventually, speaking privately with T'Pol to one side, and something about their body language indicated to the Empress that the two were on intimate terms.

Good, thought the Empress. I'll make that Vulcan suffer before I kill her, and pay Charles back for all the aggravation he's caused me. Then soon after, I'll make him forget her, and make him my own.

She made her way to the weapons rack next, for the dagger which the captain had slid her way was somewhat symbolic. All official duels were fought with the kindjal shaped short sword which was prominently featured on the Terran Empire's logo. Now a dagger could be used in conjunction with the kindjal, and the various dueling styles which made proper use of the two weapons were popular in the Empire, but the kindjal was always the primary weapon of a formal duel.

The Empress selected the standard model blade for herself, with a 17 inch blade and a 4 inch hilt, which she planned to use along with the dagger which Captain Tucker had slid towards her in the conference room. Once she crippled T'Pol, the Empress had a delicious purpose in mind for the captain's dagger, as she intended to cut off the Vulcan's lips, nose and ears from her head, before killing her, and she could do so without fear of interference, for no one could interrupt a formal duel until one party of the duel was dead.

* * *

"I happen to know that the Imperial bitch has trained in the FullCircle style of swordplay for seven years," said Trip while looking directly at T'Pol, "so expect her to use both sword and dagger. I've seen her practice, and she favors compound movements in both attack and defense, and she favors deception, so look for her to be comfortably predictable in order to lead you into becoming overconfident. She'll be predictable, until she's not, and by then you're dead if you don't keep your wits about you."

T'Pol nodded, understanding her mate's warning.

"I've seen your file," said Trip, "and I know about your time with the V'Shar. You can take the Empress, T'Pol, but don't underestimate her."

"I will not," said T'Pol, and that much was true, for that had been part of her basic training.

"On the other hand, I suppose we could just fall to our knees now, submit, and ask the Empress for mercy," said Trip. "I might be able to persuade her to keep me as her love toy, and though she'll probably have you executed, I think I might persuade her to make your execution a painless one. What do you think?"

T'Pol merely looked at Captain Tucker, a subtly skeptical look in her eyes, and said, "Just wish me luck, fool."

Trip gave the Vulcan a lop sided grin, and said, "Good luck, T'Pol."

T'Pol gave the captain a last look, a slight nod, and then turned her back on the man in order to walk towards the weapons rack, where she selected a standard length kindjal sword. Sword in hand, T'Pol walked past Captain Tucker one last time, the eye contact between falling just barely short of qualifying as sex, and then T'Pol took her place, opposite the Empress, a distance of some thirty feet separating the two females.

"Begin," said Trip, moments later.

.


	24. Chapter 24

— **Chapter 24—**

The Empress approached the Vulcan directly, and when they'd closed distance to within fifteen feet of each other, the Empress assumed the 3rd position of the FullCircle system, body held at a 45 degree angle to T'Pol, her dagger held in left hand and positioned at chest level, blade projecting from the bottom of her fist, while the sword was held in a natural position, hilt a bit higher than her hips, blade's point aimed towards Vulcan's heart. It was in this manner that the Empress advanced on the Vulcan to within five feet now, and the two combatants touched sword tips, each learning something about the other from that initial contact.

A gracious give and take, a yielding when pressured, followed by a sticky maneuver which kept the tips in contact once the aggressor drew back, well, that spoke of a skilled combatant, poised, relaxed, well trained. On the other hand, the tense, the frightened, the untrained, often exhibited a stiff resistance which persevered even at the cost of becoming unbalanced, and that state was called, appropriately enough, a dead hand, because the combatant exhibiting these characteristics generally ended up dead by the end of the fight. Mental factors loomed overwhelming in any form of combat, and it was clear to both combatants immediately upon contact with the other's weapon, that neither would find easy victory here, as they were both well prepared for this contest.

The last factor worthy of consideration in this match, was the sheer viciousness of the weapons involved in the resolution of this contest. Various melee weapons had different optimal combat ranges, and these distances were reflected in the reaction times of the combatants. Small weapons such as daggers and short swords, had a short effective range, and once within an opponent's weapons range, action and reaction times were measured in fractions of a second, and lives hung by a string: there was no time for planning or deliberate tactics when a blade could be thrust inside your body in the blink of an eye, so each combatant relied almost completely on ingrained skills, reactions and responses born of endless training, all in order to respond in time to defend oneself, and kill the other.

The Empress noted dispassionately that T'Pol had armed herself with just the sword, leaving the Vulcan's left hand empty, though she'd sheathed that hand in a dueling glove, a leather glove, the palm of which had been covered in small steel rings no larger than a lentil. Assuming the Vulcan was trained in the use of such things, she would use the glove to bat away and deflect her opponent's blade at times, though she could never block that blade directly. Another advantage of the dueling glove was that the Vulcan would retain her ability to grasp, to pull and unbalance, to strike out at her adversary. As in all things, there were advantages and disadvantages to every choice, as there was no truly optimum solution, just victory and life, or death, as the price of failure.

* * *

Moments after touching swords with the Empress, T'Pol's sword slid down along the Empress' blade for a few inches, then the Vulcan pressed forward in a rush, after first slapping the Empress' sword to the side, but the point of her sword found nothing, the Empress having stepped aside aside, rather than backwards, with the grace of a cat.

Something ventured, thought T'Pol, nothing gained.

The two spent the next ten minutes gently probing the other's reaction times and instinctive responses to various feints, and T'Pol noted that the Empress often seemed a beat too slow, a bit too flat footed, and realized it was all a gambit on the Human's part to fool her, just as Captain Tucker had warned, in order to give her a false sense of confidence, and T'Pol played along and did her best to seem emboldened by her supposed superiority over the Empress, playing her own game now.

The cat and mouse game went on a bit longer, each combatant learning something about the other in the process, but eventually, things had to be play out for real, lest their edge be dulled by the constant readiness, held too long. The Empress took the lead now, moving in on T'Pol, her two blades a blur, and in the first passage she'd managed to lightly slash T'Pol's shoulder with her dagger, while the Vulcan had struck the Empress with her stiffened fingers at the junction where shoulder and chest muscles met, just barely missing a nerve cluster which would have numbed the Empress' dagger arm for hours. Their swords had essentially canceled each other out, T'Pol's sword blocking the Empress' thrusts and cuts and guiding the Human's blade away from her body each and every time.

Another minute to regroup, another passage, and this time T'Pol managed to grab hold of the Empress' left hand after the Human failed in an attack, and the Vulcan used her strength to briefly control the Empress, while also applying pressure against the Human's sword blade, meaning to disarm the Empress, only to have the woman entangle her right leg with T'Pol's and trip the Vulcan to the ground. T'Pol retained her grip on the Empress and the two tumbled one atop the other, but eventually T'Pol had to release the woman and roll away despite her superior strength, for she could not control the Human's dagger hand in the tumble and the Empress had slashed T'Pol's left cheek, drawing green blood from the Vulcan in the process.

The two combatants quickly regained their feet and resumed their stalking maneuvers only briefly, and on this pass, they both did slightly better, and worse. T'Pol's blade crossed the Empress' blade, neutralizing it momentarily, and T'Pol took the opportunity to kick out and strike the Empress' right leg from under her, though she was unable to break her knee, as intended. Nevertheless, T'Pol went for the kill, meaning to kill the woman with a downward thrust through the back as she tried to scramble away from danger, but the Empress counter-intuitively rolled into T'Pol and stabbed the Vulcan in the meaty part of calf muscle, taking a sword thrust in the shoulder from T'Pol as payback. They separated then when T'Pol jumped back, for the Empress brought her sword in play before T'Pol could stab downward once more to finish the Empress, and the two combatants split apart once again.

They each took stock of themselves, with T'Pol drawing the Empress' dagger from her leg, and tossing it into the recesses of the Shuttle Bay, then gingerly testing out her leg. It was quite painful to step on that leg, but not unbearable, given a Vulcan's higher levels of pain tolerance, and the denser muscles of a species from a high-gravity planet. As for the Empress, her wound would keep her from using that arm effectively, but it was not a fatal wound given how narrow the sword's tip: better yet for the Empress, the short sword was a one handed weapon, so she could still make use of the weapon in her right hand without hindrance.

The two duelists took their feet once more, each of them beaten about the edges and needing to finish this contest in short order, as they resumed their stalking movements and sought out an opening in the other's defensive stance.

The Empress came at T'Pol directly now since the Vulcan stood in place, refusing to chase the Empress, and the Empress pressed the Vulcan hard, and eventually T'Pol missed a beat and made a mistake and the Empress drove her sword into T'Pol's left side. The Vulcan screamed in pain, but retained the presence of mind to grab hold of the Empress' blade with her dueling glove, the leather providing purchase on the blade, the steel ringlets providing protection from the edges. The Empress jerked strongly on her blade's hilt, needing to free it from the Vulcan's side and grip, but before that movement was even completed, the flat of T'Pol's blade caught the Empress on the side of the head, knocking her Majesty to her knees, dazed. T'Pol drove her knee into the Empress' face, and the woman collapsed, only to slowly struggle and make attempt to stand once more. Meanwhile, T'Pol painfully extracted the Empress' sword from her torso, and then approached the Empress from behind, both blades in hand.

The Empress was on one knee now and trying to rise, still dazed, but the point of T'Pol's blades guided the woman back to her knees, and T'Pol placed the tips of both swords atop the Empress' clavicles, then with a savage downward press, the Vulcan drove both blades into the Empress' torso, severing veins, arteries, lungs and heart in the process. The Empress death was almost instantaneous. Deed done, T'Pol released her hold on the blades still buried in the former Empress' body, and the woman fell gently backwards to the floor.

* * *

T'Pol spun to face Captain Tucker, one hand on her side to compress her flesh and staunch the flow of blood from the worst of the wounds that she'd sustained while fighting the Empress, and though the damned thing hurt like hell, the extent of her pain was not apparent on T'Pol's face, she a former V'Shar operative well trained to tolerate pain and hardship.

She noted the captain approaching her from one side, Doctor Phlox and two men carrying a stretcher approaching from another, and the Denobulan reached her before the captain, and began questioning the Vulcan about the wound, taking note of her responses with just as much interest as in the actual wound.

"We need to get you to Sick Bay right away, T'Pol, though your wound is not immediately fatal," said Phlox. "We need to stop the bleeding and I need to run some scans on you, and then patch you up."

"A moment, Doctor," said T'Pol, with eyes only for her approaching mate.

"Doctor?" said Trip, looking at the Denobulan.

"She'll be fine, Captain," said Phlox, somewhat frustrated now, "as if the wound was bad enough she'd be in shock by now, but I'd still like to get her into Sick Bay, and she's wasting time. Vulcans can be the most stubborn of patien—"

"Give us a moment, Doctor," said Trip, and Phlox rolled his eyes and walked some twenty feet away to wait for T'Pol, taking the two men and their stretcher with him.

"You did well out there, T'Pol," said Trip. "Now the Empire can deal with the threat we're facing as one united fleet, and everyone will remember that it was your actions which brought about a largely bloodless solution to this succession."

"I didn't kill the Empress for the Empire," said T'Pol, looking at Trip meaningfully. "I did it in order to prove my fitness to my mate."

Trip nodded, understanding T'Pol's point, and said, "Go to Sick Bay now. Don't give Phlox a hard time. I'll be right behind you."

T'Pol gave the man a brief nod, and made her way to Phlox. Moments later the two left the deck on the way for the Sick Bay, for T'Pol had spurned the use of the stretcher.

Trip spun and moved to stand over the prone body of the former Empress' body. She'd fallen backwards when T'Pol had released her, legs folded to her side, and if she were not laid out in a pool of her own blood it would have been possible to think that the woman was sleeping… well, save the two sword hilts which still stuck out of her torso.

A slight movement drew Trip's attention and he noted Lt-Commander Reed looking down at the former Empress. Trip signaled that the Lt-Commander should approach him.

"Yes, Captain?" said Reed.

"Take your team and see that the former Empress' body is beamed down to the Planetary Senate Chambers as she is now," said Trip. "Go with the body as my representative. The Senate will be in attendance now. Tell the Senate that I request and require that they should appoint me Emperor within the hour. If they hesitate in the least… impress upon them the importance of coming to a speedy decision, in whatever manner you find appropriate. Once that's done, see that the former Empress' body is honorably cremated, and the ashes returned to her family. Bring the swords back to me."

"Yes, Captain," said Lt-Commander Reed.

* * *

Stepping into Sick Bay minutes later, Trip expected to see T'Pol still undergoing medical treatment, or perhaps sedated and laid out in a sick bed, but instead the Vulcan was seated on a sick bed, her cuts bandaged, and she seemed well enough all things considered.

"Doctor?" said Trip, approaching doctor and patient, as Phlox essentially glued together the cut on T'Pol's face.

"She's almost done here, Captain," said Phlox, eyeing his work on the Vulcan's cheek. "T'Pol was lucky. A few inches more towards the center and the Empress' thrust would have shredded T'Pol's intestines. As it is, the wound is painful, but medically minor."

Out of curiosity, Trip lifted up T'Pol's uniform to look at the cut she'd suffered at the Empress' hand, and noted with surprise that the flesh was held together by a half dozen thin metal staples on each side of T'Pol's body.

"Shouldn't that cut be bandaged?" said Trip.

"I know my business, Captain. Relax," said Phlox, then looked at T'Pol. "Come back in five days, T'Pol, and I'll remove those staples. Just keep that area clean until that time. You're good to go. You're sure you don't want a stronger painkiller?"

"Quite sure, Doctor," said T'Pol. "I am fine. Thank you."

She slipped off the sick bed, and looked at Trip, but the man was looking at the doctor now.

"You've done marvels healing my radiation illness, Doctor," said Trip, "but now, in addition to the task I've already given you, I have a new assignment for you."

"And what is that, Captain?" said Phlox.

"Investigate the possibility that a Human and a Vulcan might have children together," said Trip, and heard T'Pol gasp from behind him.

"Gladly, Captain," said Phlox. "I'm certain I can answer that question on my own account, but if you should happen to have access to any other, ah, computer resources—"

"I'll see you have what you need in the next few days," said Trip, understanding the Denobulan's meaning. "Thank you, Doctor. If we live through the coming battle, you have a stellar future ahead of you, in gratitude of your loyalty."

Phlox smiled widely in anticipation of the bright future which the captain had spoken of, and then Trip turned his attention to T'Pol.

"Come on," said Trip, "you need some rest."

They left Sick Bay then, and made their way for T'Pol's quarters, where Trip had the Vulcan pick up a clean uniform for later, then the two made their way to his quarters, where he helped T'Pol undress, after which they showered, where he did most of the work of sponging the Vulcan clean, before guiding her to his bunk, briskly drying her hair with a fluffy towel, and then helping her lay down and stretch out on his bunk, though she didn't truly need the help. He was about to join her, when the Comm unit in his cabin chimed twice.

"Yes," said Trip.

"Make your way to the Bridge, Captain," said Shran.

"All right," said Trip, then looked down at T'Pol. "I'll return as soon as possible. May I bring you something from the Mess Hall?"

"Some hot tea, and one of those lemon-poppyseed muffins I like, please," said T'Pol.

"Ok," said Trip. "I won't be long."

T'Pol nodded, and after the captain left the cabin, the Vulcan closed her eyes, and began a period of meditation to release the residual stress and tension she still held in her body and in her mind, after her brush with death.

* * *

Trip stepped onto the Bridge, to see that the main Bridge monitor was activated, the video screen displaying the Planetary Senate chambers and the Leader of the Senate, while the smaller picture in picture, displayed the image of Admiral Gardner, representing StarFleet.

Trip took the captain's chair, Shran at his right hand, and Trip looked at Trang expectantly.

"My Lord Emperor," said Trang, after a formal salute. "I wished to pay my respects, and notify you that a motion appointing you Emperor of the Terran Empire has just been passed unanimously. The celebrations and rituals which accompany your coronation will take place at your convenience."

"All that can wait, Senate Leader Trang," said Trip. "We have an enemy fleet to deal with now, and what better way to seal a coronation, then with a victory."

"As you say, Majesty," said Trang, and Trip signaled that his Comm officer should put up the next call, from Gardner.

Gardner's face expanded now to fill the Bridge monitor, and the admiral saluted the Emperor formally.

"My Lord Emperor," said Gardner. "The fleet awaits your orders."

"Your men and your ships are fully ready for battle?" said Trip.

"Yes, Majesty," said Gardner.

"Good," said Trip, doing some quick math and realizing the fleet had some sixty hours more or less before the Romulan/Klingon fleet reached Earth. "We're fully prepped as well. Ten hours from now, I want you and anyone you consider essential to board the Defiant. We need to plan a suitable welcome for our uninvited guests."

"Yes, Majesty," said Gardner, and the Bridge monitor went blank.

"Turn everything over to the night shift, Shran," said Trip, looking at his Executive Officer. "Get some rest. I need you fresh tomorrow."

"All right," said Shran, and Trip left the Bridge.

Some ten minutes later, Trip entered his quarters with a pot of hot tea, two cups, and a three muffins, to look down at T'Pol, who seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

"Trouble?" said T'Pol, opening her eyes to look at the captain.

"No," said Trip, setting everything aside to help T'Pol to sit cross-legged on the bed.

Once that was done, Trip set the plate with the muffins on the bed in front of T'Pol, and handed T'Pol the teacups then filled them both. He sat across from her, careful not to rock the bed too much, then took his cup of tea from T'Pol's outstretched hand. They looked at each other silently for a time, and Trip noted the slight smile on T'Pol's face, and sensed her sexual arousal through the Bond.

"Seriously?" said Trip. "Now? After what you've been through today? The shape you're in?"

"I will explain it later," said T'Pol, unwilling to go into the particulars of the kal-if-fee just now, and the meaning attached to that ritual in her psyche. "I may not be any good tonight, but we must engage in sexual intercourse anwyway, Captain. Now."

"You're a sweet talking romantic, T'Pol," said Trip, with a grin on his face. "Ok. Do we have time to finish our muffins first?"

"If we hurry," said T'Pol, quite seriously.


	25. Chapter 25

— **Chapter 25—**

The combined Romulan/Klingon fleet was still some five hours outside the Sol system which contained Earth, when every ship in that fleet received an automated hail from the Terran Empire. The message was brief: "I, Charles Tucker, I, Lord Emperor of the Terran Empire wish to sue for peace and offer a negotiated solution to the approaching mixed Romulan and Klingon fleet. To push through with your intended attack on Earth is senseless when you can achieve your goals by a bloodless victory, but if my offer of a negotiated solution is ignored, rest assured, my fleet will resist your attempts at conquest, and it will do so quite effectively."

On receipt of that message, the Romulan Praetor Rhi'ell contacted his counterpart among the Klingons, General Moklor.

"Well?" said Rhi'ell.

"I don't like it," said Moklor, arguably the less cerebral of the two leaders, but one well versed in the art of war. "These Human vermin have never backed down from conflict before."

"True," said Rhi'ell, "but it doesn't answer my question, General, and they've never face this sort of a threat before."

"We go in with on high alert," said Moklor. "Given the number of ships in our fleet, we'll be able to create a hell of a sensor net. No way that they'll achieve tactical surprise, if we do it right."

"Yes, General," said Rhi'ell. "I agree."

* * *

Four hours & forty-seven minutes later, the invading fleet dropped out of warp just outside of Pluto's orbital path, and headed for Earth at 1/20th impulse, each and every ship of the six hundred conducting sensor sweeps, which painted a wonderfully complete image of the tactical layout in this star system. The Humans would have found it impossible to hide even a single mine from the invaders, though it appeared that they intended no treachery, as the entire Human fleet was assembled and spread out in a rough line across some two hundred kilometers wide, and twenty kilometers high, just outside of the Moon's lunar orbital path.

The invading fleet made a beeline for the Humans, adopting the same general tactical posture as the Terran fleet, though as a function of its greater numbers, the invading fleet was more tightly packed and thus more intimidating. At least the Humans had made an attempt at puffing their chests, and had presented that fabulous new ship the Orions had been blabbing about as they streamed away from the Terran Empire side of the Green Belt. Yes, that one ship was presented prominently in the place of honor, surrounded in a circular pattern by six clusters of six ships each, the rest of the Human fleet dispersed to one side or the other of that formation. Neither the Romulan Rhi'ell, nor the Klingon Moklor were impressed, not now when they outnumbered the Humans at a 3 to 1 ratio, so they ordered that their flagships should take an opposing position to the Terran formation, surrounded by their fleet, stacked some forty decks high, fifteen decks higher than the Human formation, and seemingly much more menacing.

Both Rhi'ell and Moklor viewed the Human formation on the main video monitor on their respective Bridges, and each leader had the image of the other displayed as a picture in picture.

"Their shields are up," said Moklor, "but their weapons are not powered."

Rhi'ell nodded: it was true that it would only take two or three seconds for weapons to be powered up, but still, it at least indicated some willingness to negotiate. Possibly, thought Rhi'ell.

"I noted that fact as well, General," said Rhi'ell.

"I'm looking at sensor data now, Rhi'ell. Not a single weapons signature in that entire fleet. We have nothing to lose by hearing the Humans out," said Moklor. "Contact them, and share your data stream with me."

Rhi'ell nodded his agreement, and looked at his Comm officer, and that Romulan acted on his captain's unspoken command.

* * *

"We're being hailed, Majesty," said the Defiant's Comm officer, looking at the Emperor, who was captaining the Defiant.

"Put it up," said Trip, "and share the feed with the Zhael and the Vulcans."

A moment later, the Bridge monitor of the Defiant showed a split view of the two flagships, Romulan and Klingon respectively, then the feed switched to the Bridge view, displaying Rhi'ell and Moklor, each in their appointed portion of the screen

"My Lord Emperor," said Rhi'ell, saluting the Human standing on the Bridge of the Defiant, "I salute you on your ascension to the throne."

Moklor followed the Romulan's lead in his turn: this universe was a dark place in many ways, but despite that, or perhaps because of it, manners and decorum were important fixtures in each and every culture and species, perhaps because fortunes changed places so often, and it served no purpose to antagonize an opponent who might have his foot on your throat the next day, or next week.

"Thank you, Admiral Rhi'ell," said Trip, for the Romulan was known from past conflicts, then looked at Moklor. "General Moklor, your name is known far and wide across the Terran Empire. Though we drove you off in your last foray into our terrain, your handling of your ships was masterful. By all accounts, we barely prevailed over your fleet."

Moklor bowed his head, proud that his actions were respected, and that his honor was acknowledged even by his enemies.

"Gratitude, Majesty," said Moklor. "But it seems that we find ourselves at odds once more, and this time, I have the advantage."

"I can see why you might think so, General Moklor," said Trip, taking the captain's chair, the bracelet on his left wrist clicking as it made contact with the built in arm rest of the captain's chair, the armrest through which the power and data cables ran in order to service the built in slender console built into the armrest. "But this ship of mine is quite special, and it has many weapons with which you're simply not prepared to resist. Would you like to see a minor demonstration, which just my serve to avoid open combat between us both."

"Why not, Majesty," said Moklor, barely suppressing a contemptuous grin: a Klingon warrior could not be cowed into submission by fear, or novel weapons.

"The female to the left of you," said Trip. "Is she of any personal significance to you?"

"No," said Moklor.

Trip sent a command to the Tantalus Field device through his bracelet, and the Klingon female screamed briefly as she disintegrated from the deck of the Klingon flagship in the span of 1.3 seconds, to the astonishment of every person sharing this video feed, and to the entire Bridge of the Defiant, and most of all T'Pol who had known nothing of this hidden power of the Defiant.

"Neat trick, my Lord Emperor," said Moklor, "but I'm not impressed."

"Really?" said Trip. "I could vanish the crew of your entire Bridge, or Engineering, or even an entire ship, in the blink of an eye, right before I move on to the next, and the next, and the next, at a speed which would surprise you…"

That was true, for the bracelet interfaced Trip's thoughts to the Tantalus Field device at lightning speed, capable of performing the desired operations far, far faster than simply manipulating the Tantalus Field manually.

"Respectfully, Majesty," said Rhi'ell, "your weapon, while interesting, depends on the Defiant, and I assure you, the Defiant will be our first target, should you choose combat, over submission. I doubt that ship will live long enough to alter the course of battle."

"That may or not be true," said Trip, "but you didn't really think I'd rely on just one weapon, do you?"

"You said you wanted to negotiate a surrender, Majesty," said Rhi'ell. "So what is your offer?"

"Actually, I offered a negotiated solution, not surrender. I'm offering you a chance to leave our territory with your lives," said the Emperor. "If you don't take it, now, I'm going to hold your people responsible, and as soon as I'm done here, I'm going to invade your territory, and I'm going to burn it down. Burn it all down."

Moklor started laughing at that, joined by the fellow Klingons on the Bridge, and even the Romulan Rhi'ell laughed a cultured laugh… and then the mouth of Hell opened up, and reached out for the invading fleet, as three of the six cluster of ships spread apart and the three rail cannons arranged in a triangular pattern around the Defiant began firing directly into the tightly packed ranks of the Romulan and Klingon ships: each cannon mounted 800 barrels, firing some 720,000 steel marbles per minute, for a grand total of some 2,160,000 projectiles per minute, all ripping through the Romulan and Klingon shields in seconds, and immediately afterward through their ships.

Although the invaders had scanned for weapons signatures, and spotted none, the amount of energy used by the rail cannons was insignificant compared to the energy requirements of the phaser cannon banks used on the Terran warships, since rail cannons fired through the manipulation of magnetic fields, which sped the projectiles faster and faster along the 200 meter/656 foot long barrel to a terminal velocity of 900km/560 miles per second, and all in all the rail cannons were much more effective than phasers, their only major shortcoming being the need to stockpile, carry and replenish the steel projectiles, which was a minor hassle for a planetary defense system, but a major problem on a traveling starship.

That one mistake on the parts of Admiral Rhi'ell and General Moklor cost them their lives, and the lives of some 175 ships over the course of the 47 seconds that it took for the invading fleet to scatter and move outside the range of the still blazing rail guns, only to then be swamped by the Terran Empire fleet which burned another 82 ships, before retreating at the Emperor's command in the hopes of luring the invaders back within the range of the rail guns, though the invaders were not fools, and wanted no part of that.

With those two moves on the Emperor's part, the two fleets had reached a rough numerical parity, and now morale aboard the Terran ships soared, while that of the soldiers aboard the invading fleet plummeted, and that on top of the fact that much of the command structure of the invading fleet vanished during the first salvo of the rail guns. The determining factor though, was when ship after ship began reporting their command and engineering crews just vanishing from the ship, as the Emperor used the Tantalus Field to best effect, and with that, the invading fleet scattered and made way for home, and with that victory the long reign of the Emperor Charles Tucker began, and the secrets of the Romulan cloaking device passed on to the Humans.

* * *

The Emperor made his way to Sick Bay now that the battle was over, and he moved quickly, for his mate had been hurt in the initial press during which the Terran fleet had destroyed the 82 enemy ships, as the Defiant had been the spearpoint of that attack, and had taken damage in the process, and some casualties, T'Pol among them.

As Trip stepped in Sick Bay, he saw a number of wounded being cared for by Phlox and his nurses, and Trip caught the doctor's eye, and said, "T'Pol?"

Phlox pointed to the East end of Sickbay, and Trip made his way there, to find T'Pol seated on a sick bed, head lowered, and Trip made his way to her side, after drawing closed a curtain so that they might have a degree of privacy. The Vulcan saw him from the corner of her eye, and turned her face away from the man as Trip made his way to stand in front of T'Pol. Despite T'Pol's attempt to conceal the right side of her face, Trip placed his hand beneath her chin and gently turned T'Pol's face, his heart going out to her as he saw the heavy bandages which covered that side of the Vulcan's face. He sighed, though it was all part and parcel of her choice to be here, on a ship of war, when she should have been on Vulcan.

"The doctor said he's unsure if he can save my eye, and he says even surgical intervention may not be able to eliminate the scars on my face completely," said T'Pol, avoiding his glance, and Trip felt a heavy, dull feeling through the Bond, and identified it as despair. "I will leave for Vulcan tomorrow, my Lord Emperor."

Trip reached up and caressed T'Pol's unhurt cheek with the back of his fingers, and said, "I can not allow my mate to distance herself from me, or lose herself to grief. You still have your duty to the Empire and to your Emperor, my dear, so if it comes to that we'll just get you a spiffy eye patch. You'll look quite intimidating, which is a fitting look for an Emperor's mate. Except in my bed. There, you'll be a patched kitten with a sweet smile."

The words the man was spouting were meaningless to T'Pol, but the feeling which flowed from his end of the Bond to suffuse her body was quite meaningful, for it was an unconditional love.

"If you say so, my Lord Emperor," said T'Pol, feeling hopeful now despite the streak of amusing cynicism which was part of her nature. "I suppose I could comb my hair over the patch, if it came to that."

"That's my girl," said Trip, stealing a kiss from his mate. "The battle's done, T'Pol. Let's go to my quarters for tonight, and we'll take tomorrow as it comes."


End file.
